Interesting Developments
by Fanuilos
Summary: Two completely different people, two completely different worlds. Collision was inevitable; but was it such a bad thing? Friendship drabbles for Satoshi Hiwatari and Risa Harada.
1. Cat

**A/N:** While _technically_ not a drabble, I have a collection of platonic oneshots that are under one thousand words for Satoshi and Risa. Even if you don't like them as a couple, you have to admit they make _excellent_ friends. I will not be posting in any form of "chronological" order since I am still in the process of writing drabbles, so if they seem to be closer friends in one, and more of acquaintances in another, that would be why.

**Disclaimer:** I only play with them. That's why this is on a fanfiction site.

**Spoilers:** None.

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><p>Ouch. That was best word to describe his current state. Ouch.<p>

Kneeling beside him, holding the cause of his injury, was the younger Harada twin. She, bubbling over with happy inanities, did not seem the slightest bit concerned with his dilemma, so again he asked himself why he had done what he had.

When she had pointed out the stranded kitten up in the tree, he had every intention of walking away and leaving it to get down on its own. But her concern for the creature's well-being became evident when she tried to scale the tree herself. In her school uniform, no less.

"I'm really surprised," she cut in on his thoughts, giving him a pensive look. "I didn't think that you could be so graceful and athletic. Since you don't do PE, and all."

"Yes, well, much good that did me," he grunted, pulling his glasses out of his shirt pocket and putting them back on his face. He had easily ascended the tree, but the cat had not been at all interested in being picked up. He had been half-tempted just to knock it out of the tree. Cats always land on their feet, right?

Too bad the same could not be said of him. He had managed to bundle the creature under his arm, but after he had begun his descent, the kitten had wriggled free of his hold and scratched his face rather deeply. He had stepped back in surprise, only to find that the branch did not extend quite far enough in that direction.

After that, it was quite the unceremonious dismount from the sakura.

The worst part was, he had landed on the wrist he had broken previously in the year, saving Niwa during his fall down the stairs. He was used to misfortune, but up until his second go at middle school, his wrist had been exempt from the likes.

"Ooh, you're such a cute kitty! Yes, you are! Yes, you are!" The little devil had become fast friends with Harada, proving it by purring sweetly against her neck as they cuddled.

"I should have left that idiot cat in the tree," he muttered, rising to his feet cautiously. His hip was sore and his shoulder felt like it had been jarred out of place.

"That's it! That's what we'll call you! Baka!" laughed Harada, nuzzling with the cat. He lifted his eyebrow, but did not question the decision. After all, both of those innocent looking creatures were trouble-making idiots. The lesson he drawn from his fall was that it was best not to get involved with their kind.

As he started limping away, though, Harada called out after him. "Ah, Hiwatari-kun, wait! I'll go with you!"

He turned around, his eyebrow arching again in surprise and confusion. "Go with me? Where?"

"To the nurse's office."

"I'm not going there."

"Oh, yes, you are! You're hobbling like an old man, and you've got blood dripping onto your shirt already!"

"Harada-san, I—"

"—don't have a choice in the matter; yes, I know. Come on, Baka! Let's make sure that Hiwatari-kun goes where he's supposed to!"

He sighed, trying not to slump. Idiots clung like burrs.


	2. Spoon

**A/N:** I write these drabbles solely from one-word prompts. If you want to try to stump me, or just see what I can come up with, I will take a prompt from every reviewer. My only request is that they are family-friendly, preferably nouns.

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill.

**Spoilers:** None.

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><p>"Harada-san."<p>

She turned around, her countenance questioning, though the smile never left her face. "Yes, Hiwatari-kun?"

"Why are you not using a spoon?"

She glanced down at her bowl of ice cream and then at her vanilla-coated fingers. A grin spread over her face as she answered, "Well, they weren't prepared, so they ran out of spoons."

"So you are eating it with your fingers."

The obviousness of his statement made his meaning equally plain: he thought she was an idiot. She laughed, picking a clump of her dessert from her bowl, and said with a flick of her head, "I wanted some, and I'm not picky. Do you have a problem with that?"

"What are you going to do when it melts?"

"I'll drink it, of course."

"Hm."

She smiled at him and then scooped a bit more out of her bowl. As he watched her method critically, she pointedly ignored him.

Holding back a sigh, he held out his spoon.

"You can have mine," he offered with a shrug. He had only eaten a little of the ice cream that a girl had shoved into his hands. He did not care much for cold foods and, in his opinion, ice cream was too rich.

He was turned down, however, with a giggle and a shake of the head. "Hiwatari-kun, I wouldn't have thought that of you!"

Confused, he frowned at the spoon in his hand. Another glance at her mirthful face, and he apologized hesitantly. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh, don't worry, I don't mind. Of course you wouldn't think of it like that. Just don't offer it to anyone else, or there's bound to be a cat fight for it." That seemed to strike her as highly amusing and her tinkly laugh rang out again. He only scowled, finally understanding what she meant. He certainly never asked for a fan club.

"Well, I'll see you later!"

Off she went, bouncing happily as she randomly wove her way through the crowds to greet her numerous friends in an exceedingly hyper fashion. He looked down at the spoon in his bowl and wondered how much sugar it would take for him to achieve even a fraction of her giddiness.

Now there was one experiment he did not want to attempt.

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><p><strong>AN:** I am sure most of you are aware, but sharing eating utensils, or drinks, etc, is considered indirect kissing. Risa, being romantically-minded, would of course remember that, but Satoshi is much more rational, so he would see a need he can meet, not an implication.


	3. Gratitude

**A/N: **Dedicated to the best Canadian out there. Happy Thanksgiving, Wain.

**Disclaimer:** Obvious.

**Spoilers:** None.

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><p>He did not need to look up to know the one standing before him was Risa Harada, even though she had not made a sound and all he saw over the edge of his book was the normal girls' uniform. He was completely used to girls approaching him, namely with the intention to carry out a stammered conversation before shoving a love letter into his hands, but he knew this was not any girl.<p>

"What are you most grateful for?"

Case in point.

Looking up from his book, he cocked an eyebrow at Harada-san. "Excuse me?"

She, smiling at nothing in particular, dropped onto the bench beside him. "Just what I said. What are you most grateful for?"

"Why do you ask?"

"And why are you suspicious?" she laughed, clicking her heels together as she looked up at the pale autumn sky. "I was just thinking about all the great things in my life and tried to figure out what I was most thankful for. I finally decided on 'life' just because, I mean, that's how I can be around everything I'm thankful for... sensing and feeling and being, you know? But then I got to thinking... what about everybody else? What are they the most grateful for?"

"And I am everybody else?" he asked dryly, turning back to his book.

"Nope. I asked Riku, too, and some of my other friends. Riku was the only one who answered seriously, though. She said 'family'," Harada-san chattered amiably, putting her book bag on her lap and then her elbows on top of that, "but I think she wanted to say 'Niwa-kun', too."

"Hm."

"So what about you?" she asked, jabbing him with her elbow.

Leaning away from her, he did not look up from his book. "I have not thought about it."

"Aw, come on. Give it a shot. Is it... hmm... books?"

"I highly doubt it."

She tapped her lip, pensive. "Well, maybe... sleep?"

At that, he turned to her disbelievingly, eyebrow raised.

She laughed, holding up a hand. "Okay, okay, sorry. You could help me think, though."

With a roll of his eyes, he resumed his place on the page. He really did not need to think about it. Out of everything in his life, there were two things he could truly say he was thankful for. The first was Niwa, who had shown him that he did not have to go through life alone, hating or apathetic to everything, and Niwa was the first to become his friend.

"Well, I'm sure there's _something_. What are you thankful for?" she asked, pinching his sleeve between her fingers. He glanced at her, with her bright countenance and large, honest eyes, her smile still ghosting her mouth.

"Harada-san."

Her eyebrows rose and she queried, "Yes? What is it?"

He smirked, closing his book as he rose to his feet. "Class will start soon. Shall we go inside?"

"Okay—but I'm going to get an answer from you eventually," she said, making a fist in determination.

He shrugged, tucking his book under his arm. "You already did."

"Huh?"


	4. Wallet

**A/N:** Definitely much earlier in their interactions with each other than the previous one, but I have a particular fondness for this story.

**Disclaimer:** Only the plot, my friends, only the plot.

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><p>He still was not quite sure he enjoyed it. Somehow Daisuke was a never-ending fount of excuses and somehow Satoshi never had the perfect reason to turn his friend down.<p>

It had started when Riku and Daisuke would hang out with Risa and go around town as a little trio. Risa would often slink off to let the two lovebirds enjoy themselves, but the couple were guilt-ridden over the sacrifice of the social butterfly of Azumano.

He did not question why he was selected. Of Daisuke's friends, there were few that could be considered apposite chaperons. Takeshi Saehara, for instance, would either forget Risa entirely when he caught sight of something remotely newsworthy or perhaps even take a picture of one of her clumsy moments and embarrass her in front of the whole school. No, he did not question why he was always the one called upon to join them, but he did wonder if it was anything besides a nuisance.

After all, it was an undisputed fact that Risa Harada was a chatterbox, a giggler, and an idiot.

But the chatterbox happened to be terribly quiet ever since her sister and Daisuke had gone off together to find some snacks, leaving Risa and Satoshi to stroll through the mall alone.

He refrained from sighing. While he was not interested in learning about anyone around him, for their sake as well as his own, it was probably unhealthy for such a talkative girl to keep her mouth shut for so long. It might have long-last effects. It might, heaven forbid, diminish her thinking capabilities due to so much nonsense trapped inside her brain without outlet.

"What's wrong?"

"... Nothing."

Liar.

Not that he cared. She had the right to choose if she wanted to talk about her problems or not. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes trailing over the crowds. A couple of ogling girls blushed and looked away. A sigh swelled in his throat, but he did not let it out.

"Oh!"

Her excited cry made him stop and turn around, but he found himself alone. Quickly scanning the area, he mumbled in annoyance, "Blast her for being so fast..."

He spotted her kneeling in front of a store window, gazing in rapture at a book on display, her hands pressed against the glass. Walking to her side, he tried to smother the smirk on his face. Of all the books in the window, it made sense that she had noticed a children's book.

"I used to read that book all the time when I was little! I haven't seen it in ages. I'm buying it. I'm going to buy—oh! I didn't bring my purse... Why didn't I bring my purse?" she said as he stopped beside her, staring down critically at the flower-covered book.

She looked up at him, a huge grin plastered on her face. "I've never seen any copy but mine before. It brings back such great memories!"

Her smile was back.

He grunted, reaching into his back pocket. Somehow she always managed to forget her purse and he always ended up paying for things.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he scarcely restrained himself from shaking his head. She probably planned it that way.

Still, if that was all it took to keep that warm, familiar smile on her face, it was worth it.


	5. Vacuum

**A/N:** I'm not so good with writing humour. This is about as funny as I get. Please forgive me. That being said, thank you so much, IndubitableInk, for helping me not make a fool of myself by beta-ing this.

**Disclaimer:** I can't even draw. You think they're mine? Didn't think so.

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><p>Whirring penetrated his dreams. Cautiously, he peeked out at the blurry world, wondering what on earth was happening.<p>

The familiar surroundings of his apartment were still around him, appearing very much real, but something was out of place.

Some_one_, actually, and she was vacuuming his living room.

"What are you doing?" he mumbled, squinting at her. She was fuzzier than he remembered. Blast low blood sugar. Highly inconvenient.

Forcing himself to sit up despite the dizzying rush of blood, he repeated his question. "What are you doing?"

Risa spun around and grinned widely. "Ah! You're awake!"

"Well, you are vacuuming right next to me." A small pause. "Harada-san, _why_ are you..."

She laughed and kept right on vacuuming.

Refraining from stuffing his ears to block out the noise, he massaged his temples in small circles. When that failed to render the normal relief, he reached for the cord to unplug the immediate source of vexation. Unfortunately, she noticed his attempt and flicked the cord out of his reach. He glared at her and demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm cleaning up!" she stated over the cacaphony of the machine, shooting him a satisfied grin.

"I didn't ask you to clean my apartment, Harada-san. Furthermore, how did you even get in here?"

"Oh, it was easy! Because you didn't seem well at school, Niwa-kun and I came over to see if you were all right. We got worried when you didn't open the door, so Niwa-kun broke in. It was really cool. I didn't know he could do that!" She giggled at the memory, shutting off the vacuum and pushing it over into a corner. "He said that it was like the lock at his home."

Hiwatari-kun snorted. Niwa had turned into a professional liar as well as a thief.

"Ah! Hiwatari-kun! You're awake!" Niwa exclaimed, stepping out of the kitchen with a towel slung over his shoulder. "Um, pardon us for the intrusion, but... um... see..."

"I thought it would be fun to clean up your house while you were asleep," Risa said, coming to Niwa's rescue. "Like brownies!"

"Right." Hiwatari rubbed his forehead, trying to think of the best way to throw out the unwanted duo of brownies. He felt like he was coming down with something. Maybe it was stupidity. He had heard it was contagious.

"We can go now, Hiwatari-kun," Niwa offered, wringing the towel in his hands. "I was going to pick up Riku-san from her lacrosse practice later, but we could go now, if you want."

Yes. Good. Do that, Niwa.

"I'll stay with Hiwatari-kun and finish cleaning," Risa offered, with one of her huge, irrefutable grins.

He flopped over, burying his face in between the couch arm and cushions. His only reply was a muffled, "Ugh."


	6. Pumpkin

**A/N:** While I tend not to do anything for All Hallows' Eve, it's still a widely accepted holiday, so I couldn't pass up the chance. Holidays are shiny things, after all. But seriously, this is almost an actual drabble. I pat myself on the back.

**Disclaimer:** I only own Scoop. I might hate puns in general, but hey. They can be amusing when subtle.

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><p>"That's what I thought, but Riku said it was going to be later."<p>

"You can check the bulletin if you do not believe me."

"No, no, that's okay. You're probably right. Riku doesn't do so well with dates."

"As in timewise, or with Niwa?"

"Ha! Meanie!"

"I try."

"You do a great j—"

"BOO!" Hiwatari-kun and Harada-san's conversation was cut off by the shout of a misshapen figure which jumped out in front of them. The first cry of horror came from the startled Harada-san.

The second came from Saehara-kun.

Kneeling in front of the remains of his jack-o-lantern, Saehara-kun lifted the split face from the ground, exclaiming, "Why did you _do_ that? Just look at Scoop!"

Hiwatari-kun lowered his fist and carefully flicked the orange and white from his knuckles. "You surprised me."

Harada-san, her hand clapped over her heart, regained her presence of mind enough to demand, "Saehara, why on earth did _you_ do that? You almost knocked us over!"

"It was just a joke," Saehara-kun muttered, dropping the pumpkin he held back to the ground. "I carved it last night and it looked _amazing_, so I brought it to show everyone. And then Hiwatari-kun _smashed_ it!"

"If you had merely shown me in a rational manner, you would still possess a whole pumpkin."

Harada-san cut off Saehara-kun's whine, saying firmly, "Just be glad it wasn't your head, because that's what I'll be punching if you don't keep quiet."

With that, the two classmates left Saehara-kun to arrange the funeral.


	7. Feather Pen

**A/N:** This story draws off of the arc of The Second Hand of Time. Likely most everyone is aware of the wonderful interaction between Satoshi and Risa in that area, but for those who are not, you are missing out. Still, you will probably understand this anyway.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any bunny ears.

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><p>When her bag spilled in front of him, he had been half tempted to ignore her and keep reading. But he had always been a gentleman, so it stung sorely at his conscience to allow her to gather her things on her own.<p>

Then again, he may have offered to help because he did not want the lecture she would give him for ignoring her plight.

Hard to say, really.

As he gathered the dropped items, he was somewhat surprised when he found a single white feather nestled between some loose sheets of paper, looking as if it had been rather abused.

"Harada-san... is this yours?" he asked, holding it out to her with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Ah! Yes! I'm glad I didn't lose it," she said, shoving a couple books into her bag. "It's a special memory."

"It's not a memory. It's an object," he replied, running his finger over the clumping barbs. His eyes widened and he nearly dropped it in surprise.

The feather was his.

Quickly, he regained his composure and said dryly, "It's useless."

"It is not. I told you. It's a memory," she said, gathering the last of her school supplies, "and it's also a mystery. So give it back."

He stared at the feather incredulously, then rose to his feet.

"Hey! I said give it back!" she cried, scrambling after him.

"I'll give it back in a moment," he said, sitting back down on the bench he had been occupying before her accident and began searching through his own bag. Quickly locating what he was after, he pulled out the small switchblade and she gasped after it sprang open, "Hiwatari-kun! You can't have that at school!"

He gave her a rather cunning smile before making a small notch in the feather. "I am using it for art purposes. I need it for the art club."

She snorted in disbelief, but then said menacingly, "Don't you dare ruin my feather, Hiwatari-kun. Give it back."

"It is just a feather, Harada-san. You can easily get another one."

She paused, shuffling her feet, and then murmured, "But it wouldn't be the same. That one is special."

"It's also pointless," he replied, though a smile curved at the corner of his mouth.

"Not to me!"

Why had he been hoping she would say that?

He set down his knife and folded the feather's stem until he heard the desired snap. Then he picked up his knife again and said blandly, "It should at least serve some purpose."

He whittled the rest carefully and quickly as she looked on with nervous interest. After he had tapered the nib to a perfect point and cleaned off the edges of the cut tine, he closed his knife and handed the feather back to its new owner.

"That should interest you. Don't use it on cheap paper, by the way."

She blinked at him and then at the feather pen that was left in her hand. A small smile twitched on her lips.

"Thank you, Hiwatari-kun."


	8. Chess Board

**A/N:** One of my favourites so far. I'm so excited to post it. I hope you all enjoy. For those of you who care to look for it, there are numerous equivoques, implying a further relationship is on the horizon. Nom nom! Brownie points to those who find them.

**Disclaimer:** I only own the situation, which is enough for me.

**Warning:** Impish Satoshi.

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><p>She lifted her chin from the table and looked at the rook that he had dropped in front of her. Giving a little moan, she examined the chess board and how very little black was left on the board, stamped out by the white.<p>

What ever had possessed her to offer playing chess with Satoshi Hiwatari?

Yes, she had been bored, but was she really _this_ bored?

Her opponent did not look up from his book when she sighed, instead merely pushing his glasses up his nose as he said, "It's not my fault."

As if she did not already know that. He was brilliant and she was stupid, but at least she was not a hair's breadth away from being put in the hospital.

She pushed her bishop into one of his pawns and asked, "Why are you so smart, Hiwatari-kun?"

"It's still not my fault," he replied, glancing up from his book for only a few seconds before he decided on his move.

She scowled. The reason which made it so terrible that he was winning was that she was _positive_ he was going easy on her. Stupid Hiwatari-kun.

When he went back to his book, she glared at the game with all the fierceness of her will and concentration. She was not going to let him beat her quite so easily. Oh, no! Not a chance. She would make at least one brilliant move before the game was over!

There!

"Ha! I got your queen, Hiwatari-kun!" she proclaimed, snatching the piece off the board triumphantly. An idiot, was she? Well, now he would have to play without his queen!

He looked at her, cocking his head, and her victorious grin vanished.

Moving his knight, he said with annoying calm, "And that, I believe, is checkmate. Your king is lost."

She stared open mouthed at the trap that held her king in check, then squealed in anger.

He managed, with extraordinary grace, to avoid the king that she chucked at his head, then went right back to reading his book.

She stormed away from the table, fuming, but her hand had hardly clasped the door handle when she felt a tug of conscience. He had obliged her by playing and it really was not his fault that he was so smart. She had not even expected to pose a challenge to him since she rarely played chess.

Oh, bother.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking back over her shoulder. He glanced up with some surprise from his book and took a moment to digest what had just happened before shrugging.

"It's fine."

"Well... you were being nice to me when you didn't have to be. So I'm sorry for my attitude."

"I'm used to your immature fits."

She grit her teeth together and quietly exited the room. She was not going to prove him right by responding childishly to his obvious taunt.

She closed the door without a glance back, thus entirely missing the smile that flitted over his face.


	9. Waffles

**A/N:** This story almost feels more like a comic or animation to me than something that can be properly rendered to writing. If I could draw, this would definitely be something I would try. However, I cannot, so this will have to do. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** Notice above: I can't draw. Do you think manga characters are mine still...?

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><p>Shifting the load in her arms so that she would not drop the lumpy bags she held, she rammed her foot repeatedly against the door.<p>

What was taking so long? Was he dead?

The door opened slowly, revealing in unwilling increments a bleary blue-eyed boy. With a wide smile, Risa chirruped, "Good morning, Hiwatari-kun!"

Far faster than it had opened, the door slammed on her face. Fortunately, she was completely prepared and, despite the initial sting, she was none the worse for wear. The confused face that again appeared from behind the door made her smile widen. His eyes were on the door knob as he once more tried to shut the door and found it simply would not fit back into place.

"I'll let myself in," she said as she edged her foot beyond the threshold, then quickly pushed her way through the doorway. The door clicked shut behind her and as she removed her shoes, she snickered quietly as it opened and closed again as he tried to understand why it would not shut before. He really was sick.

When Hiwatari-kun turned his attention to the intruder, she was already unloading her arms onto his table.

"Harada-san," he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose which was pleasantly devoid of glasses, "what exactly are you doing?"

"Can't you tell?" she asked with a laugh as she set out the plates.

"If you are going to try to feed me, I feel obliged to remind you that not only do I not eat break—"

"Any normal, healthy person should eat breakfast," she cut in and nodded sharply as he stared helplessly at her. His weakened state did not evoke pity from her; she would work his condition fully to her advantage. "So come on, sit down."

"You made them yourself," he stated, though it sounded more like a plea for her denial. She glanced up from the plastic-wrapped platter of waffles, replying with a slight pout, "They're not that bad, Hiwatari-kun."

"I was under the impression you wanted my health to return from this visit," he said dryly, regaining a bit of his normal composure. With a sweet smile, from which he immediately drew back, she repeated, "Sit down and eat."

"Harada-san, this is counterpr—"

"It won't kill you!"

"I understand I will get better care at a hospital than at home, but I do not wish to—"

"You _know_ my cooking isn't _that_ bad!"

"It tastes like it could be."

"Being sick doesn't give you the right to be rude," she sulked, crossing her arms. "Look, I have a plate too. If I had poisoned it, would I be eating it too?"

Chastened, he took his seat across the table from her. "But I don't eat breakfast." He sounded meekly supplicant, prompting her to giggle.

"You do to-day."

And so he did—and he did not even end up in the hospital for it.


	10. Light Switch

**A/N:** The closest I have actually come to an actual drabble. This time, it's all dialogue... and personally, I think at the end, after the door slams shut, we hear him snigger. Someone was feeling mischievous, ne?

**Warning:** Impish Satoshi.

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><p>"Aah! What just happened?"<p>

"The power went out."

"Well, duh, thank you, genius."

"You are the one who asked the question."

"Hold on."

"What are y—careful, Harada-san. I do have furniture."

"Oww... yeah, thanks. You're five seconds too late."

"You came in when the lights were on. I did not think it was necessary to point out the fact previous to your walking into the table. Clearly, I was mistaken."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up... Huh. It's not working."

"You flipped the light switch."

"... So?"

"The _power_ is out, Harada-san. Flipping the light switch is not going to change that."

"Well, I was just checking!"

"Of course."

"Don't talk to me like that, Hiwatari-kun."

"You are the one who checked the light switch. And walked into the table."

"Hmph. Rub it in, why don't you?"

"Hmm. This only happened after you arrived to work on the school assignment... maybe you should leave and then I will check the lights after you're gone."

"I didn't jinx your house!"

"We could always check."

"Jerk. When I said rub it in, I didn't mean literally."

"You were the one who begged me to put off working on our school project until after the sun set so you could 'use the daylight to—"

"Okay, I _am _leaving now."

"Watch out. I have a door."

"HIWATARI-KUN!"


	11. Pencil

**A/N:** I have a confession. Two weeks in a row now, I have pushed off updating with a certain drabble. However, I am at peace with the decision, considering it still needs tinkering. So in place of Ribcage, which will come who-knows-when, I give you this. As a side note, IndubitableInk was the one who gave me the prompt as well as helped me edit it. She's so helpful.

**Disclaimer:** I only own the pencil. Or do I...?

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><p>The absolute requisites for capturing Dark were concentration, determination, and ingenuity. As he had already proven his intense, unflagging concentration and determination through sleepless nights and long hours spent at school devising plans, he found himself left to wonder if the ingenuity was his lacking quality. No matter how many people recited his impressive list of accomplishments or highlighted his wide range of exceptional talents, his one, true test continually stared back in his face as utter failure. The Phantom Thief always managed to elude capture, no matter how close Hiwatari came in ending their lengthy contest of wits and finesse.<p>

It had been more than a half hour since he had stowed away his notebook and pencil, leaving his thoughts to roam freely. His intention had been for them to strike subconsciously upon some new scheme, yet to his annoyance they turned ever and anon to his own shortcomings. If he had merely let the Mask of Sunlight go and focused on ending Dark's freedom; if only he had refused to let Dark take up that bet; if only, if only, if only.

"Here."

Hiwatari-kun blinked at the blur of yellow blocking his vision, then at the girl beyond it.

Calmly pushing the pencil away from his face, he asked blandly, "What do you need, Harada-san?" Could she not for once leave him at peace with his thoughts? Did she not realize he was brooding over something rather more important than the need of a pencil?

"Take it," she said, pushing it into his hand.

Despite the desire to return to his onerous thoughts, cynical curiosity got the better of him. Looking at her with a raised eyebrow, he queried, "Why?"

"You looked like you needed a friend," she said, moving her attention to her bag. "You've been zoning out over here in the corner for a while." She pulled out a sketch pad and dumped it on the table in front of him. "Start drawing already."

"I do not like drawing," he responded as he set down the pencil. That was not a lie. Drawing reminded him of his past, of his present, and of his future. None of those things happened to be pleasant subjects.

"You either draw or you talk to me," she threatened, placing her hand on her hip and lifting her eyebrow back at him. "Your choice."

Talk nonsense or continue thinking while obeying her motherly orders?

"Fine," he said, sounding amazingly monotone instead of sulky. Ah, the wonders of self control.

Trusting him to carry out his word without her presence, she returned to her group of friends. His eyes wandered after her for a moment before he opened the sketchbook. While flipping through the book in search of a clean page, he carefully controlled his urge to sigh condescendingly at the attempts at drawing he saw. After all, there was no benchmark for good art beyond a good will; the doodles and the disproportionate people were clearly done with a loving, patient hand, even if they turned out oddly to other viewers.

A clean sheet finally appeared and he set the graphite to the page. A brief sketch would be enough to sate her. He had no doubt that if she saw him drawing something, she would not care where his mind wandered.

What could he set up that would baffle the experienced, agile thief? Through his constant study of both Dark and his Wing Host, he had gathered much information—likewise, though, much was known of him by the objects of his surveillance. He needed something different. Something unnatural for himself, to surprise his enemy. Something different, unwonted. Brilliant, unlike what was to be expected of him; bright... soft... kind...

He stopped short with a lurch, his eyes focusing with muted surprise to the paper. His hand darted forward to yank out the page, but paused before accomplishing the task.

With a small shake of his head, he closed the pad, covering her smiling face as he did. Turning the pencil around in his fingers, he wondered how she had so easily become the image of the opposite of himself.


	12. Playdough

**A/N:** One more week of putting it off. It's nothing remarkable, but I've been so busy I haven't bothered to work on it.

**Disclaimer:** No connection to Usagi-sensei whatsoever.

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><p>Risa pushed aside the clutter of jars, exclaiming, "Oh! Look at this!"<p>

"What?" Hiwatari-kun's voice, issuing from behind his book yet again, caused her to glance over her shoulder at him in annoyance. While she was the one who had dragged him off to search for something to do while they were waiting for Riku to finish getting ready for an outing, he was being unnaturally disobliging.

"You're supposed to be helping me find stuff," she reprimanded, climbing down from the stool. He responded with something resembling a grunt and she leaned across the table he sat beside, swinging the yellow container between his nose and the book.

"What is this?" he asked, looking up at her coolly.

"What _is_ it? It's _playdough_, silly," she replied, popping off the lid and pulling out the red stuff from the container. "You make things with it!"

She shoved half of the playdough into his hand and after he observed it for a moment, he asked, "So it is clay?"

"Well, kinda, but it's softer," she said, settling herself in at the table, rolling the remaining bit in her hands. "It's a lot of fun. Riku and I used to play with it a lot when we were younger. I haven't seen it in a while... I wonder if there is any more around here?"

Falling silent, Risa bent her full concentration on the red lump in her hands. She squeezed it into a lumpy cube, then carefully patted it smooth until it turned into an admirable little box. Proudly she surveyed her work and gave it one last affectionate pat before glancing up at her friend. The comment on how superior playdough was to clay died on her tongue as her eyes met with his fabrication.

Under his deftly moving fingers sat a delicately shaped, exceedingly tiny swallow. Swirling patterns emerged on its wings and head as his fingernails brushed over it. Her stare attracted his attention and when he lifted his eyebrow in question she managed to stammer, "What... is that?"

"Mm? It's a swallow. I would have done something more vertical, but the softness of the material prohibited anything excessively tall. I chose a subject more grounded and—"

"Ugh!" she exclaimed, slamming her hand down on her perfect cube in disgust. "Hiwatari-kun, I'm telling you! You need to learn how to just _play_!"

He blinked in confusion as she picked up her playdough pancake and muttered crossly, "Stupid prodigy..."


	13. Snow

**A/N:** Not quite holiday-themed, but definitely wintry. Merry Christmas, all.

**Disclaimer:** I can't make it snow and I can't draw... but I can pretend.

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><p>The first thing Hiwatari noticed when he finally pulled himself out of bed was that he wanted to crawl back under the covers to get away from the cold air. Squinting at the window, he realized that the grey substance clinging to the edge of the pane was indeed an accumulation of snow.<p>

Exhaling, he ran his hand over his face and staggered toward the closet. While he was not one to generally acknowledge even the existence of snow beyond grabbing a coat and a pair of boots, he found himself annoyed by the change in weather. He had been expecting violent cold, but the forecast had predicted clear skies for the rest of the week and he had been counting on that for work. Dark never took a break for unwelcome weather conditions, so Hiwatari could expect no relief in that quarter. To position already bumbling idiots on guard in the snow and try to operate using a sub par unit besides would cause a headache that even a good night's rest would not cure, he was sure.

By the time he had confirmed that no more snow was expected besides the remarkable foot that had fallen overnight and had deduced he could count on that as much as Dark deciding to turn himself in, he was dressed for school and in need of only his lunch and a coat.

The frantic ringing of the doorbell interrupted him as he was removing his coat from the closet. Glancing at the door and then at his watch, he wondered who would be visiting him so early in the day. With a small sigh, he draped the coat over his arm and went to the door.

"Good morning, sunshine!"

He blinked in the ironically bright light reflecting from the white coating the world without, then squinted at the face, equally bright and beaming, before him.

"Harada-san? Why are you here?" he asked, his brain quickly running over the list of possible explanations for her sudden and unexpected visit. Before he settled on the appropriate answer, she clapped her mittened hands together and exclaimed, "I'm here to drag you out into this beautiful wonderland!"

"You are what?" he queried, his words slow and painfully enunciated in the hopes that such would encourage her to swiftly render clarity to the situation.

"School is cancelled!" she laughed, throwing her arms out and gleefully bouncing in her boots. "We have the whole day to spend as we so choose!"

He highly doubted the truth of those words. The correct phrasing was likely 'We have the whole day to spend as I choose', but instead of pointing out the error, he merely asked, "Why is it cancelled? There is not enough snow to merit that."

"Maybe not," she said, grinning at him, "but the fact that the snow knocked out the school's power certainly helped matters!"

"I see," he murmured, looking for a moment at her shiny red nose before deciding to test the exactitude of her previous statement. Starting to close the door, he said with a shrug, "Very well. I have things I need to be do—"

Her cold, wet mitten closed over his arm, retaining him. Arching his eyebrow imposingly, he turned to look at her. She bit her chapped lip as she lifted to him an adorably pleading face, then asked hesitantly, "Will you come out and play?"

His eyebrow rose still further. Those were not words he ever thought he would hear directed at himself. He decided it was best to let her know that. "Are you crazy?"

She laughed, bouncing up and down once more, her wheedling expression turning again into one of pure joy. "Maybe, maybe, but please come out! It'll be so much fun!"

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to pretend he could escape. Still, before the words of refusal even left his mouth, she was tugging his arm again, saying with her uncanny fervour for life itself, "Come on, come on! It's packing snow! You need to get out and enjoy the day. We can have a snowball fight or make snow angels or make a snowman or do just anything!"

He had a feeling that doing anything in the snow with Harada-san would leave him wet and miserable by the time he crawled back indoors. It sounded dreadful.

"All right," he agreed, rolling his eyes once and then a second time as she let out an exuberant shout of triumph.

"You'll have fun, you know you will! This is going to be a great day!" she cried, racing off his porch and into the snowy world. Slipping his arms into his coat, he shook his head as a vague smile crept over his face.

It was probably idiotic of him, but he believed her.


	14. Present

**A/N:** So close to missing deadline. As it is, I'm posting it without the ever-valuable help of my beta, IndubitableInk. This is mostly stream of consciousness writing and I do not doubt that it will show. Still, it's Monday, and I must post. Just forgive me... I've been sick for a week and now I'm combating terrible allergies. Without a beta and without proper brain function, I will post and pray that you all be forgiving. With next week's post, I will hopefully update this one to a better quality version.

**Disclaimer:** I only own the scenario... I think... hopefully...

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><p>Leaning on her desk, Risa settled her chin onto her crossed arms and sighed. In her peripheral vision she could see the skirt her parents had bought her and the scarf Riku had knit. While Risa was still surprised Riku had done something that girly and more so that it had turned out well, she found herself listless.<p>

The neatly wrapped present sitting in front of her nose was likely the cause.

She had spent all of December slaving away, trying to make the best present for Dark-san that she could, but her hopes that he would visit her on Christmas Eve and then on Christmas had been disappointed. Her present for him still sat in front of her, looking bleak despite its brightly coloured wrapping paper and the silvery ribbon wrapped around it.

Heaving another sigh, she closed her eyes. She had always loved the festive feelings of the winter holidays, but now she wished that she could just forget they existed. She had spent until midnight and even a little into the wee hours of the following morning on her balcony, clutching Dark-san's present and watching the skies, silly enough to hope. She had wrought all sorts of excuses for him even as she waited in breathless anticipation for him to appear. In the end, she had not even had a cold to boast of, which somehow upset her romantic sensibilities. It had been freezing outside—at the very least she could have been enabled to tell him she had gotten ill all for his sake the next time she saw him, to prove her dedication.

She shook her head firmly, sitting upright. None of that. She had promised herself not to sulk or fantasize.

A shrill ringing from beside her made her jump, but she dove straight for her phone even before she realized what she was doing. When she saw the number on the screen, her eyebrows rose. Flipping it open, she lifted it to her ear. "Hello, Hiwatari-kun."

"Harada-san."

Refraining from asking why he was calling her, she did her best to smile cheerfully so it would carry through to her voice. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

She blinked, her mind blanking for a moment, but then she laughed. "What? Why?"

"It is a nice day out," he replied and she looked out the window. The sky, so pale it seemed white, did appear rather bright and welcoming. Still, the snow was a bit deep just for a pleasure-outing.

A small smile twitched on her lips as realization dawned on her. "It does look nice... I guess. Where do you want to meet?"

"At the park?" he offered and she agreed, "Sure. I'll head right over. See you then."

"All right." The line went dead and she slowly drew the phone away from her face, looking at the call's duration. Not even a minute, but the smile would not leave her face.

He had guessed. She knew he had. Glancing once more at the present on her desk, she grinned then shook her head.

She snatched her new scarf and giggled. Just wait until she told him that Riku had knit the scarf herself. Would he even believe it?


	15. Ribcage

**A/N**: Now for the one that I have been putting off. I was supposed to have written the prompt Palingenesis to celebrate the New Year, but though I love my idea for it, I was too busy to write it out. So instead, I shall do this. Have a wonderful new year, everyone.

**Disclaimer**: Never have, never will own these guys. Please leave me in peace to cry over this hardship.

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><p>Satoshi closed his locker, the dry squeaking of its hinges echoing in the empty school hallway. Exhaling softly, he fit the books he had removed under his arm, silently running over his plan for the rest of the day. He had to meet with his father, which was always a pain, then hurry to work previous to—<p>

Before he had even turned away from his locker, he heard the sound of irregular footfalls from down an adjacent hall. Whoever was coming toward him evidently suffered from either a limp or similar form of hesitation, judging by how the second step was delayed and heavier than the other. Hesitation lasted only a moment before he turned and walked toward the noise. Perhaps someone needed help.

A grunt of pain from the unknown person made his stride lengthen, though he thought it sounded feminine. Helping a girl was not desirable considering their wont to fawn over him, but he could not very well run away like a coward and leave her—whomever she was—alone in her distress.

When he rounded the corner, astonishment briefly paralyzed him. A girl shuffled down the hall, one arm wrapped above her waist and her face screwed in pain. That image was not what unnerved him.

"Harada-san?"

The younger Harada twin looked up, her eyes widening a fraction. "Hiwatari-kun! What are you still doing here? I thought you said you were busy to-day."

"I am. I just had a project I needed to finish," he explained, looking her over critically as he approached her. "What happened to you?"

"I..." she hesitated, looking away as she tightened her hold on herself. "I... well... see, they—no, I mean, I was just being clumsy. I knocked over some boxes and one hit me kind of hard."

"Did it hit your rib cage?" he asked, then set down his books when she nodded mutely. "Let me feel the area so as—"

"Ew, no!" she exclaimed, recoiling in horror before laughing guiltily at her outburst. "No, no, it's okay, really."

"I want to ascertain nothing was injured," he said, his brow drawing together in concern as he observed her twinge at the change in pressure. "If you dislocated or—"

"You worry too much," she accused with her usual nonchalance and then stuck her tongue out at him. She paused, her expression dimming for a moment. "Hi-Hiwatari-kun?"

Picking up his books, he sighed. "What is it?"

"Are we friends?"

He blinked at the books he was slipping back under his arm, then looked back at her. Friends? With Harada-san? When put so bluntly, the idea seemed odd. She was so unlike him in every way, not to mention at times annoying and immature. More importantly, regardless of her nature, for him to have friends at all was dangerous. With the curse that shortened his life and kept a homicidal beast barely contained within his body, how could he dare allow anyone to believe he was to be trusted in any form?

Still, evenwith all of that staring him in the face and weighing on his conscience, he could not say no. He could not imagine his life any longer without her. Her smiles, her inanities, her small kindnesses, her personality, even her moods; everything that contributed to who she was had somehow become indispensable to him.

"I suppose we are friends," he replied, not meeting her eye as he shrugged. Those words sounded so simple, but he had never said them before. They felt nice.

Friends. With Harada-san. Who would have thought?

"Good," she said, at last drawing his gaze back to her face. Her mouth curved slowly into a satisfied smile. "Good."

With a final sigh and smile, she hobbled off down the hall, leaving him to look after her in startled bemusement at her last words: "Then I don't care what they do to me."


	16. Tire Swing

**A/N:** I've always loved this one. It's such a simple picture of the both of them, but... ah. I like it. Please enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** No bunny ears here.

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><p>The cool spring sun shone down on the park, making the budding life around her all the more vivid. Risa Harada, hands tucked behind her back, turned her face to the cloud-strewn sky and inhaled deeply. "Mmm... Is there anything better than weekends in the spring?"<p>

"I do not feel obliged to answer that honestly," her companion, Satoshi Hiwatari, said blandly from beside her. She threw him a quick grin, then gasped as her attention was stolen by something beyond his shoulder.

"Look!" she cried, pointing with a beaming smile at an ancient oak tree. "It's a tire swing! I haven't been on one of those for ages!"

"A what?" he asked mildly and she turned upon him in incredulity.

"You don't know what a tire swing is? Where on earth were you raised, Hiwatari-kun? Did you even _have_ a childhood?" she demanded as she grabbed his wrist and dragged him off the path toward the tree. "This is utterly ridiculous."

He submitted in silence to her direction until she stopped by the partially deflated tire that hung on a fraying rope.

"Get on."

"Excuse me?"

"Get on."

"It looks... unsafe."

"Don't make me force you."

"You already are."

"See? So you don't have a choice."

"I could walk away."

As he proved that he could do just that, she ran after him with a strangled cry and caught his arm in her hands. "Hiwatariiii-kuuuun! Please! It's necessary for a normal life!"

"I highly doubt that," he returned, but she managed to pull him back toward the swing.

"Really. It'll be fine. Get on," she pleaded while looking up at him with her most convincing, sweet expression. The exasperated look earned by her wheedling made her giggle, to which he merely sighed.

"All right," he muttered, grabbing the rope. "How does one do this?"

"Slip your feet into the hole!" she answered eagerly and he followed her directions.

Well, at the very least, he tried.

When he put one leg through and tried to slip in the other, the tire pitched upward away from him. If it were not for Risa leaping behind him and catching his shoulders, he would have landed very neatly on his back in the dirt.

By some miracle of agility, he slipped his other leg into the tire and settled himself very quickly, though once settled he grumbled under his breath, "It'll be fine, she says..."

Risa, lost to the hilarity of what just happened, required a few moments to regain her speech. "It... ha ha! It's... that's the most... dangerous part, don't worry!"

"My faith in you is every increasing," he replied sarcastically and she laughed afresh before giving him a light shove. His eyes snapped upward to the gentle swaying of the bough caused by the swing, then he added in what could almost be termed a nervous tone, "I really am not sure this is safe."

"Don't worry. This tree has held up far heavier people than you, I'm sure," she laughed, pushing him a little harder as he swung back toward her. "It's not going to keel over just because you're doing this."

"I would not be so sure," he said, his fingers gliding over the knot binding the tire. "This rope does not exactly inspire confidence."

"Just enjoy the ride!" she exclaimed, but he countered easily, "I am failing to note how this is supposed to be an essential to normal life."

"It's not the slightest bit fun?"

"It is much more worrisome than anything—and while it should not be, due to my exposure to such behaviour, your pushing me is awkward."

She grabbed the tire and guided it to a stop. "Oh, phooey, Hiwatari-kun. You're so... so..."

His dismount from the swing was exceptionally graceful in comparison to his climbing on. "I'm no fun?"

"That'll work," she said, rolling her eyes. "You should have just enjoyed the ride."

"If you are so set on it being enjoyed, then you get on," he replied, stepping away to allow her access.

She did not have to be asked twice. Settling her skirt neatly around her knees, she commented daintily, "I'll show you how you're supposed to do it!"

"You do that," he said while pulling back the tire, then shoved it forward. She darted upward, her sandaled feet rising toward the newly emerging leaves and fresh blue sky, the air pulling her hair back from her face and reminding her that the scent of rain still clung to the world.

Spreading out her hands, she sighed happily as she paused for the split second betwixt rising and falling, luxuriating in the feeling of everything stopping. Then her stomach went up into her throat as she pitched back down toward the earth. Curling herself in tightly, she spun the tire around so she could see her companion.

"See!" she cried, clutching at the rope. "It's fun!"


	17. Tee Shirt

**A/N:** These next few will be very much like drabbles. Smaller than usual. That's good, right? Ahem. I'll make it up to those of you who don't like them small by posting a different story. I hope. Please enjoy this in the meantime.

**Disclaimer:** If this were mine, there'd be so many more SatoRisa moments that these would be pointless...

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><p>"Harada-san."<p>

Risa glanced up from the textbook lying on the floor in front of her to see the blue-haired Hiwatari standing in her bedroom doorway. She was on her feet in a split second, exclaiming, "What are you doing here?"

"I apologize. The door was open, s—"

"You just walked into my house?" she asked, aghast, and he lifted a disparaging eyebrow.

"Your mother let me in and told me where I would find you."

"Oh!" She paused for a moment, waiting for further explanation, but he only gazed at her. Narrowing her eyes at him, she prompted, "But... why are you here?"

Recalled to himself, he pulled a book from the bag at his side. Holding it out to her, he said simply, "The book you leant me."

"What? The one at lunch?" she demanded in bewilderment, taking the selfsame book from him.

He shrugged slightly and explained, "I read it quickly because you said you were in the middle of it."

"But I also said it wasn't a big deal since I read it before," she said, squirming uncomfortably as he continued to stare openly at her.

"I was in the neighbourhood," he replied dismissively, still staring.

Finally she scowled at him and demanded, "What is it?"

"What are you wearing?"

She blinked, taken aback by the curt, awkward question, then glanced at herself. Her outfit consisted of a blousy, nearly ratty t-shirt and knee length shorts, mostly obscured by the shirt. Looking back up at him, she asked, "What? What about it?"

"I never thought you would wear something like that."

She smirked at the comment despite herself. "It's comfortable. Feel it."

She held out the hem and he brushed his fingers over it. His face remained blank as he said critically, "It's worn."

"I prefer to think of it as _smooth_," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "I've had it for years—and yes, it is gigantic, but I have always liked this shirt. It's like an old friend." He still stared at her and she fought the urge to roll her eyes again. "Even _I_ need to let my hair down and stop trying to impress people for a bit."

"It is odd," he said and her face flushed quickly with anger. Before she could scold him, he turned away to walk down the hall and added, "Whenever you stop trying to impress people, you always manage to impress me."

He disappeared without a glance back, leaving her to gawk in silence. After a moment, she shook her head and scoffed, "Stupid boy."


	18. Class

**A/N:** Another short one, but I hope it is amusing enough that it will be worth it. Thank you to all of my faithful readers; your patronage is most inspiring. Thank you, also, to all new readers. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** They are not mine. I just love to eavesdrop.

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><p>The door rattled open and he did not bother to look up until her surprised voice broke the quietude of the room. "You!"<p>

Somehow, he knew that meant him.

Glancing up calmly from his book, Hiwatari observed the younger Harada twin coming toward him determinedly. She was not storming, at least. That was a good sign.

When she stopped in front of his desk, she settled her fists on her hips and lifted her eyebrows in curiosity. "What are you doing here?"

With his normal composure, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and replied, "Waiting for the class to start, Harada-san."

"Don't play coy with me!" she said, sitting down on the corner of his desk as she crossed her arms. "You said, and I quote..." She cleared her throat, then assumed an exaggeratedly stuffy voice, "_I do not have time for extracurricular activities, nor do I require them_."

"Your impersonation of me is improving," he responded blandly, and he did not miss the twitch of her lips as she tried to stop herself from grinning. "Still, Harada-san, I do believe _you_ said it would be fun to take the class together."

Her astonishment was evident. "What, you were actually listening to me?"

"I always listen to you," he replied with a roll of his eyes.

A huge, rather ridiculous smile plastered itself to her face. "I didn't think you thought what I said was important."

"I did not say I thought what you said was important," he corrected her and was rewarded with a flick in the forehead.

Why had he taken the class again?

Oh, right. For fun.

Brilliant plan.

He rolled his eyes and returned to his book.


	19. Key

**A/N:** I was excited when I got this prompt. I knew exactly what was going to come of it. The offer is still up for anyone who would like to see me write a prompt. Just give me a noun and I'll give you a story. Fair trade, ne?

**Disclaimer:** No bunny ears on this side of the internet...

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><p>"You look ready."<p>

Hiwatari glanced up at the girl before him, his brow quirking together as he said, "Of course I am ready."

"Well, you said you never did it before," she replied with a shrug and he rolled his eyes. Did she think he should be nervous? It was all very simple. All that was required was that he find his center of balance and the rest would fall into place.

Standing, using the mailbox to keep himself steady, he watched as Risa Harada made her way over the street, her hands tucked neatly behind her back. He gained his footing and scowled slightly as the wheels under his feet started gliding without prompting. Still, it was all very simple.

Using the technique he had seen her employ, he gently cocked one foot and pushed himself forward. He threw out his arms to steady himself as he switched feet, then realized he had moved a little too abruptly.

With a muffled shout, he went down, landing painfully on his back. The rest would fall into place? That was a stupid phrase and not one he wanted to use any longer in terms of his learning to rollerblade.

"Are you all right?" Risa asked in concern, gliding toward him with despicable ease. Glaring up at her as he pushed himself into a sitting position, he responded firmly, "Never better."

She stopped directly before him, her face twitching as she tried to remain emotionless. "Well, that's good. Here, I'll help you up."

"I really am not so sure..." he began, but trailed off as she squatted down before him, balancing effortlessly, a smile brightening her face.

"Come on, silly, don't give up," she giggled, grabbing his wrist. "After all, confidence is key!"


	20. Dynamo

**A/N:** Here we are again, and I'm sure you've gotten the idea... I love contrast.

**Disclaimer:** Never mine. Isn't it sad?

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><p>The progress was slow, but steady. He watched her making her way toward him from the corner of his eye; she stopped and chatted incessantly with the many people between them, pouring out her smiles and laughter, but she continued to draw closer to where he sat.<p>

Turning his attention back to the notebook on his knee, he tapped his pencil over the rough notes he made about the escape routes Dark had chosen over the last few weeks and how his preparations had failed to impede Dark properly.

"Good afternoon, Hiwatari-kun!" she exclaimed, dropping down beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her prop her feet on the ground, crossing her ankles comfortably as she settled back against the bench. Slowly, he turned to look at her and regarded with barely suppressed curiosity the second bentou in her hands.

"Good afternoon," he replied, carefully shutting his notebook to avoid her peeking.

She smiled at him, then dropped one of the carefully wrapped lunches on his lap. "I made this for you."

Lifting his eyebrow, he stared at the lunch and then at the girl beside him. "Why?"

"I don't know. Because you only eat bread?" she said with a shrug, untying her own lunch. "I thought you might like to eat something else for a change."

"You made this?"

"Yes...? Oh." With a small sigh of impatience, she shook her head. "Really, Saehara exaggerates when he says I poison food just by touching it. I mean, it can't be much worse than bread every day, anyway."

"That is not what I meant."

"Huh? Then what did you mean?"

He caught himself in time from speaking his mind and instead merely shrugged. "It is not important."

He had nearly asked when she had the time. He knew for a fact that she had stayed up absurdly late the previous night chasing Dark, who had, _again_, gotten away without any trouble. Did she ever get a proper night's rest, what with all of her late night activity? She never seemed to be tired at school, where she nigh bloomed with life and happiness. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered what else she hid so effortlessly behind her shining smiles.

"How do you do it?" he asked impulsively and she glanced at him, her wide eyes mirroring the question she voiced through her mouthful of rice, "Eh?"

Pausing, he wondered if he should even bother explaining himself. Still, he was the one who had spoken in the first place. "How do you do so much, so unerringly?"

She stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded, before sitting back, smiling softly as realization dawned. "Well... I guess I just try to be like you."

With a frown, he unwrapped his lunch. She could never be like him, nor should she; somehow, he found himself muttering, "Don't do that."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He stared at the simple lunch, which had clearly been prepared with determination, even if it also suffered from a sad want of skill, and then he shook his head. No, she could never be like him and for that he was glad.


	21. Chocolate

**A/N:** Of course I could not refuse the temptation to do a Valentine's Day themed story.

**Disclaimer:** If they were mine, this wouldn't have remained platonic.

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><p>The lid refused to fall shut. With a slight sigh, he shoved the brightly wrapped boxes deeper into the trashcan. Even with his best endeavours, the ribbons stuck out still, but there was nothing he could do save go back to his locker to bring the rest to join their companions.<p>

As he came back to the can with the last load, a wave and bright smile caught his eye. Harada-san hurried over to him, beaming with an exuberance odd even for her, and she chirruped, "Good morning, Hiwata—what on _earth_ are you doing?"

He turned away from her suddenly aghast visage and continued to cram the gift boxes into the trashcan. Though the answer was obvious, he felt inclined to answer. "I am disposing of these chocolates."

"Why?" she asked, a mixture of bewilderment and horror in her voice.

Sighing slightly, he glanced back at her as he replied, "Because I do not like chocolate."

"But... but you can't!" she cried, shaking her head and peering at the collection he had already thrown out.

"Clearly, I can," he countered, stuffing another box in the trash. Before he could further prove himself, she grabbed his wrist.

"I mean, you can't just get rid of them like this!" she expounded, gesturing to the numerous boxes. "The girls gave their chocolates to you because they care about you! By giving you chocolates, they put their feelings in your hands—you can't just throw them away like they don't matter."

He felt an inkling of exasperation at her overly sentimental viewpoint. If she expected him to sit down and publicly consume chocolates in such quantity that no mortal could reasonably survive in order to encourage the unwanted, unrealizable affections of girls, she was going to be disappointed.

"Harada-san," he said firmly, removing himself from her grip, "I can assure you that I will not be breaking their hearts. I have handled Valentine's Day like this before." He sighed. If only they would come to understand that he did not enjoy liberating himself of their undesirable presents. "If they truly cared, they would not want me to eat all of this chocolate."

"Maybe you could have one from each," she suggested with her usual stubbornness.

He lifted an eyebrow and continued his defense, "These chocolates are merely tradition. I do not have to eat them to receive their point."

"You are so... so... oh, I don't even think there's a word for it!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "Fine. Throw them away."

While he did not need her permission, it certainly guaranteed a more peaceful termination of the situation. Emptying his arms at last, he allowed himself a sigh of relief and turned to head off to class.

"Have soba with me, then."

He stopped, his eyebrow arching, then turned around to look at Harada-san again. Her fist was on her hip and she still appeared somewhat annoyed. Lifting his eyebrow further, he asked, "Excuse me?"

"If you don't want chocolate, then we can get soba together so you don't miss out on to-day," she explained with a wave of her hand.

His eyebrow strained to go higher. Why would he care to celebrate such an aggravating day as Valentine's?

His expression, however, did not properly convey his thoughts to Harada-san. Instead, she flushed violently and threw her hands out in front of herself as she exclaimed in embarrassment, "I didn't mean that! I have someone to give chocolates to! I didn't mean that we'd... I just didn't mean that!"

He blinked at her flustered denial of something that had not even crossed his mind, then nearly let himself chuckle. She was an odd girl.

"All right, Harada-san," he said, cutting off her further attempts to explain her thought process, a pitifully hopeless struggle on her part.

Letting her hands drop to her sides, she took a deep breath. "What?"

"I will have soba with you," he clarified with a shrug and turned around again. "After school."

"Oh... okay... good," she mumbled and then lifted her voice again. "But I'm giving my chocolates to Dark-san!"

He raised a hand, half to wave and half to brush off her words. Even if she was in love with his enemy, he did not mind so much that she was also the only girl to actually care about him.


	22. Fire

**A/N:** This is my second time posting without my highly reliable and equally helpful beta, IndubitableInk. I feel her loss already... but it is Monday, so post I will. Still, I shall remember to be especially grateful of all her services from here on out.

**Disclaimer:** I could never convince anyone I was human, much less rabbit.

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><p>They had only turned their backs for a moment.<p>

"Aaahhh! Hiwatari-kun!"

"Careful, your sleeve!"

"Here! This!"

"No, Harada-san! Don't pour water on it!"

"Eh? No, I need to—"

"This!"

"That's...! What are you—" She coughed hard, waving her hands in front of her face as a white wall enveloped her. "That's stupid! Why did you...!"

Hiwatari exhaled, controlling his breath so as not to choke on the cloud of baking soda floating around him. He might have been a _fraction_ too exuberant by dumping the whole box over the burning pan.

"It is out," he stated, not caring that his comment was obvious. She continued to cough and fan the air around herself with her hands, nodding at his words. Looking at her as he set down the empty box, he asked with some concern, "Are you all right?"

She turned to wave her hand at him then instead of the powdery air. "Oh, fine, fine. I guess we shouldn't have left that bit to cook itself, huh?"

"No," he agreed, shifting his gaze to the skillet and the whitened, greasy meat. "It does seem, in hindsight, a little stupid."

He glanced back at her when she giggled then coughed out the rest of her mirth. "It was probably more stupid of them to put two such helpless cooks like us together."

"Probably," he agreed again and she offered with a grin, "They probably thought since you're a super genius everywhere else, you must know how to cook."

"A foolish assumption," he said dryly and she laughed again, rubbing her watering eyes.

"I've got it!" All of the class, who had been watching the two pitiful students and their fight against the fire and baking soda, turned to see Saehara standing in the doorway, holding a fire extinguisher. He gaped when he saw that fire no longer consumed the pan of meat Hiwatari and Harada were supposedly using to cook. "What? How did you... you made me get this for _no reason_ whatsoever?"

"It should have already been in here," Hiwatari responded blandly, wiping his glasses off on the corner of his shirt. "We were just making the point."


	23. Steering Wheel

**A/N:** I love my beta. She is, quite frankly, the best. And for all you out there wishing for something a bit more romantic in nature... enjoy this update for what it's worth.

**Disclaimer:** The closest I've had to bunny ears would be the kind one gets in photographs from obnoxious relatives...

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><p>Wiping sweat from her brow, she pushed the bin back under the passenger's seat. Though all the windows were open to allow air flow, the summer sun had worked its wonders on turning the Harada car into an oven.<p>

With a sigh of satisfaction, she examined the vehicle she had just finished cleaning. Who knew three middle school girls could make such a mess during such a short drive? She did not mind, of course, that her parents told her she had to clean the car, but she was exasperated with Riku who had managed to weasel out of cleaning because of lacrosse practice.

The driver's seat caught her eye as she made to shut the door behind herself. She paused, then glanced over her shoulder. Not a soul in sight.

Sliding back into the car, she settled in behind the wheel and grinned. Her legs were still too short to appropriately reach the pedals, but as her hands slipped eagerly over the leather steering wheel, years dwindled into a hazily delightful anticipation that the day when she would drive was approaching and would soon arrive.

"Going somewhere?"

Jolted from her daydreams, she turned wide eyes to see Hiwatari-kun leaning casually against the car, bent over slightly so he could peer in at her.

Blushing violently, she demanded, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Are you going to shoot me for trespassing?"

"I might."

"You may never know how long I have been here, then."

She rolled her eyes at him and removed her hands from the steering wheel. "I was just thinking about being able to drive."

"I was not asking for an explanation," he said, though she could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Well, haven't you? Thought about being able to drive—no, I guess with _you_, I should ask if you've ever driven before," she said, lifting her eyebrow at him.

He smirked visibly at that, then replied, "No, I have not driven before. Neither have I thought much of it."

"Why not?" she queried, her eyebrow lifting still more. While he liked to defy the norm, likely by sheer existence, she assumed even he would want to learn how to drive.

"Everywhere I need to go is within walking distance," he answered with a shrug, switching his position so he leaned on crossed arms against the door, his head level with hers. "As things are, a vehicle would be an unnecessary expense."

"I guess you wouldn't want it for independence," she added thoughtfully, tapping her thumbs on the wheel. "Still, don't you ever want to just get in a car and... _go_ somewhere? I mean, just travel. See something of the world."

"Where would I go?"

Quizzically, she looked back at him, but remained silent when she saw his serious countenance. His eyes were turned from her to the road, a road which could lead to everywhere, anywhere else.

Glancing back at her, he said simply, "Everything I want is here."


	24. Bag

**A/N:** Anyone for more sweet?

**Disclaimer:** Never mine, never. Can't you leave a soul to mourn in peace?

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><p>At the light rap on the door, he lifted his head in surprise, then looked down at his watch. His ride was early.<p>

He unzipped the duffel bag and shoved the folder inside before turning to unlock the door. Though he was not quite ready to go, he did not need the full five minutes he had been expecting to wait, and a head start would be useful at the airport.

When he opened the door, away flew his idealistic assumptions of saving time.

"Good morning, Hiwatari-kun!" Risa exclaimed, smiling up at him brightly. Blinking in bewilderment, he merely stared at her, causing her to ask with concern, "What? Do I have something on my face?"

He shook his head mutely, then asked, "Harada-san, why are you here?"

"Um..." she hesitated, confused at the point of the question with such an obvious answer. "Well… I thought, since it was Saturday... we could... hang out?"

With a barely concealed sigh, he brushed his hair back from his eyes. Considering how long he had known her, he really ought to be used to her randomly popping up to spend time with him. Still, why did she have to find the most inconvenient times?

Before he could figure out how to get her to leave, she noticed the duffel bag behind him. "Hiwatari-kun, are you going somewhere?"

"Yes."

"Where? When?"

"Just on a trip."

"When?"

"In about four minutes."

Her eyes widened and it was all he could do not to smirk at her—at least, until her expression changed from astonishment to outright anger. "You were just going to disappear?"

"It will only be about a week," he said, trying to pacify her. As her eyes turned livid with rage, he was left to assume it had not worked.

"A week! Who were you going to tell?"

He frowned, trying to decide the best way to keep from further infuriating her. "I do not think my absence would have been noticed."

"What if I got here just a little later?" she cried, aghast. "Do you know how freaked out I'd be?"

"You know very well I am not always at home. Regardless, I have disappeared before and you never noticed," he said impulsively, but immediately regretted it.

She seemed to shrink inhumanly small.

She shrank, in fact, straight into a single atom of a very particular element.

The element of pitifulness.

"How do you know I never noticed?" she asked, her voice also incredibly small.

He, uncomfortable, looked away.

"You know now," he said, trying to move on to a different subject. "I will be back in about a week. We can do something then."

"That—" she began, but cut off as a limo pulling up along the curb behind her. She looked at it in silence, then back at him. "That's your ride?"

"Yes. Excuse me, Harada-san. I left something up in my room," he said, relieved that he had a reason to get away from her saddened gaze. He was not one to run away, certainly, but her moods were disconcerting.

When he came back to the door, she was still lingering on the threshold, but judging by her countenance, she seemed resigned to the situation. Somewhat relieved that she was not going to continue lecturing him, he slipped the packet of folders he had grabbed from his room into the small carry on behind the duffel.

"I'll see you next week," she said as he picked up the luggage he had left by the door. He nodded wordlessly and stepped outside. When he turned to shut the door behind her, she did something he was not expecting. His body went rigid in surprise as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

"See you later," she mumbled and he relaxed with a sigh before resting his free hand on her head.

"See you later," he echoed, waiting a moment before stepping away from her.

She waved as he slipped into the back of the limo and he answered with a nod. Shutting the door, he settled back into the seat and dropped his bags onto the floor beside his feet. His eyebrow quirked upward when a slip of white caught his eye.

Pulling the exposed tip of paper from a partially zipped pouch of his bag, he turned quickly for a final glance at the figure still standing on his porch. When she disappeared from view, he looked back at the paper to find a short message scrawled in her familiar handwriting.

_Come back soon._

He smiled slightly and shook his head before leaning back, closing his eyes and sighing.

She did not need to worry—he would.


	25. Pocky

**A/N:** White Day comes early. A reply to my Valentine's Day prompt. Come now, you didn't think he'd ignore proper protocol, did you?

**Disclaimer:** If I wish upon a star, would you believe me if I said they were? ... Please? ... Maybe?

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><p>Walking through the halls of Azumano Junior High had never seemed so life-threatening before.<p>

Satoshi Hiwatari had never before considered whether or not he was a coward, but as the longing gazes of females meaning to be discreet continued to linger on him, he suppressed the impulse to shudder. Looking over his shoulder was strictly out of the question. After the third subtle glance back that morning, the sight of girls trailing him openly tempted him to call out sick.

Death could not be more intimidating than wishful females on White Day.

"You all right, Hiwatari-kun?" Daisuke Niwa's voice interrupted Hiwatari from his thoughts.

Glancing at the boy walking beside him, Hiwatari gave a curt nod. "Of course."

Despite the affirmation, Niwa stared for a moment, then grinned ruefully. Regardless of his innocent and sometimes asinine appearance, the boy could at times be perceptive. "It'll be over soon," Niwa said encouragingly, causing Hiwatari's eyebrow to arch.

"I just mean—" Niwa began to explain, but Hiwatari did not let him finish.

"I know what you meant, Niwa," he cut in, sending a glance over his shoulder at the girls trailing hopefully behind him. The diversion of attention was ill-timed, however, because at that very moment he clipped shoulders with someone.

"Ah!" Risa Harada's surprised shout was accompanied by the thud of her bag as it landed on the floor.

Hiwatari snapped his head around quickly and met her astonished look with one of his own, though the very next moment he smoothed his expression back to its wonted blankness.

"I apologize, Harada-san," he said, bending over to gather the few items that had rolled from the bag that Niwa grabbed from the floor. When he handed back her things, she lifted her eyes to him in surprise, opening her mouth to protest, but he spoke before she had the chance. "Yours, I believe."

She blinked up at him but wisely closed her mouth. As a smile spread fully over her face, he resumed walking down the hall.

Niwa hung back for a moment to speak to her, then ran to catch up with Hiwatari.

"That was great, Hiwatari-kun," he said, falling into pace with his friend. "I didn't know you could do that."

A smirk twitched at the corner of Hiwatari's mouth. Sleight of hand was not difficult.

Niwa looked at Harada, who was opening her box of pocky, and a grin spread over his face. When his eyes shifted back to Hiwatari, he shook his head with an impressed laugh. "Nicely done."

"Thank you," Hiwatari replied as he risked one look behind.

Though not difficult, sleight of hand was useful. No unwanted person would be the wiser about who received the reticent Hiwatari's White Day gift.


	26. Coffeemaker

**A/N:** This one feels so casual to me... maybe that's why I actually liked how it came out, even though it deals with coffee.

**Disclaimer:** I can't even bounce without getting dizzy. I would fail as a bunny.

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><p>"Want a drink?" she asked, setting her textbook on the kitchen counter. Her studying partner, Hiwatari, took his place on a stool next to hers, nodding in response to her question. "Okay. Water? Milk? Tea? Coffee?"<p>

"Coffee would..." he began, then trailed off with a slight frown.

She snickered as she moved to the pantry. "Don't worry. I can make palatable coffee."

She bustled about the coffee maker and asked conversationally, "So, anything new with you?"

"I think you should focus," he said blandly and she threw him a glare. His teasing smirk made her smile in return.

"So?" she prompted, putting in a new filter.

Shifting in his seat, he avoided looking at her before letting out a small sigh. "Not really."

She paused, looking at him again with an inkling of worry, then resumed her task. Silently, she finished starting the coffee maker and then took her seat beside him.

"Want to talk before we start here?" she asked without any hope of receiving a true answer.

He shot her a wry smile before turning his attention to the textbook, querying, "Have you looked over any of the questions yet?"

Their conversation remained solely on the homework until the coffee maker's beep interrupted them. Risa jumped up and headed for the cabinet with the mugs. "Do you want anything in it?"

"No, thank you," he replied, flipping through the textbook in search of something to answer one of her previous questions.

"Figures. You would have yours straight," she laughed, pulling out a large mug. "Riku has a whole collection of cream stuff that she uses so you can hardly tell it's coffee she's drinking."

"I would not have thought your sister to have a sweet tooth," he said and Risa threw him a grin as she filled his mug.

"You have _no_ idea. Maybe that's why she likes Niwa-kun so much."

He smirked at that and she sat down again, pushing the mug toward him.

"You aren't going to have some?" he queried, lifting the drink and subtly sniffing it.

"Oh, no. I can't stand the stuff—even the smell is repulsive," she laughed, then faltered as he stared blankly at her. "Wh-what?"

He set the mug down as if it were contaminated. Lifting his gaze to her face, he said slowly, "Harada-san, you should have told me. It was not imperative that I—"

"Hiwatari-kun," she interrupted, trying her best not to laugh at him. "Do you like coffee?"

His brow furrowed slightly as he tried to figure out where she was going with the question. "Yes..."

"And you wanted it to drink?"

"Well, yes..."

"Then there you go."

He sighed, sounding somewhat exasperated. "It was not that important."

"Hiwatari-kun, really. Don't be an idiot. You like it."

"Harada-san."

She gave him a smile, cocking her head slightly. "Mm?"

"Thank you."


	27. Cross

**A/N:** Easter draws nigh, and I have a set with which to celebrate. Part one is Cross. This is an older one, but I do have a soft spot for it.

**Disclaimer:** Maybe I wouldn't be as lost as Risa if I owned it...

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><p>"Can I ask you a question?"<p>

He glanced over at the girl who strolled beside him, swinging noisily the plastic bags dangling from her right hand. He rolled his eyes—did he actually have a choice?

Charging on ahead without waiting for him to agree, she tapped her finger to her lip thoughtfully. "What's with the cross? You have it on a couple of your shirts, and I even saw it on some of your paintbrushes. Must be pretty important."

"It is nothing," he replied, hoping the finality in his voice would convince her. Having to go out places in casual clothes had more disadvantages, it seemed, than simply needing a large wardrobe.

"Right. Well, I have to say that's the lamest lie you could have come up with."

He smirked at her and drove his hands into his pockets. While he did not want to lie, some things were best left unsaid.

After a moment of solemn contemplation, a wry smile curved at the corner of her mouth. "So, what does it mean?"

"It is a family symbol, you could say," he replied, turning his face away from her. Where were Niwa and the older Harada? They were good at distracting her.

"That's cool."

Were it not for his unwavering self-control, he would have snorted at her assertion.

"So, what does it mean?"

"It means that I am smarter than you and that you have no hope of being anything other than an idiot," he replied dryly, eliciting a laugh from his companion. Somehow it had become habit for them to insult each other, and if he was lucky, she would insult him back and forget her question.

But luck never had befriended him.

"Is it something embarrassing? Or maybe horrible? Like a brand on your lineage?" she queried, skipping a couple of steps ahead of him.

Sometimes he hated how she could dance dangerously close to the truth, tempting him to correct her minor misconceptions. He raked his hand through his hair and forced himself to dismiss her with the reply, "It is just a symbol, Harada-san."

She glanced back at him, an oddly perceptive look glinting in her eyes, lingering only a fraction of a second before a bright smile washed it away. Cheerily, she spun back around and asked, "Want something to drink? I'm thirsty!"

Off she went, weaving through the crowds with a bouncy little gait, leaving him further behind. A small smile tugged at his mouth, but he did not let it emerge.

Maybe someday he would tell her—if only a little—and she would somehow manage to act as if all the shame and sadness were left behind, and she would smile for him.


	28. Grave

**A/N:** This is an older one, too, but I really do like it. I hope you do as well.

**Disclaimer:** No bunny in my blood.

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><p>"Hiwatari-kun?"<p>

Risa had seen his hair as she had been leaving her grandparents' grave, his unmistakable azure showing amid the white stone like a sliver of distant sky on a cloudy day. Her curiosity got the better of her and she found herself once more facing cold, ocean-blue eyes.

"Harada-san, what are you doing here?"

"I came to visit my grandparents. They're a couple of rows over that way," she replied, bending over to read the engraving on the tombstone he stood before. "Rio Hikari. Is that someone you knew?"

When he did not answer right away, she glanced back at him and noticed with some surprise that he did not appear quite as aloof or icy as normal. He looked young and tired, almost defeated.

"She was my mother."

Her eyes widened only a fraction. His mother?

"I'm sorry," she murmured, moving back a step. She did not feel that she had the right to be so near his grief. He might not appear sad, but she could tell by the soft sag of his usually erect shoulders, and the way his hands hung limply at his sides instead of casually tucked into his pockets, that he felt. He stood before this grave and he felt.

"When did she die?" she asked quietly, not willing to simply walk away.

"A few years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"It is not your fault."

She almost winced at those words: she did not like the way he had said that. "How did she die?"

"I—" he began, but cut off with a sharp, quiet hiss of breath. Slowly he shook his head and finished with a murmur, "I could not say."

Running her hand over her arm, she watched him carefully, pensively. "What about your father?"

"I never knew my birth father. I am adopted now, you know. Kei Hiwatari. That is how I got the name."

By the toneless way he uttered that man's name, she knew at once that her classmate despised his father. She was curious, even somewhat worried, but she did not feel that she had the right to intrude. After all, Hiwatari-kun was strong and liked to keep to himself.

He always did try to stay by himself, so why should she pry?

He liked to keep to himself.

He did not have a mother or a father he could turn to, and he did not have any friends at school, except perhaps Niwa-kun. No doubt he was used to it. He always faced everything alone.

Hiwatari-kun did not even bother to look at her before he pulled his hand out of hers. "Harada-san, I do not need comfort."

"Don't be silly!" she exclaimed, roughly grabbing back his hand with both of hers. "I'm not trying to comfort you. I'm comforting _me_. I was just thinking about what it would be like if my mom died."

As she expected, he did not refuse her taking his hand again after that comment, but instead he resigned himself to letting her have her way.

"I don't know what I'd do if my mom died," she said, staring at the stone marker devoid of food or flowers. She wondered how often he came.

"You would grieve for a while, but I do not doubt that you and your sister would grow closer as a result. You would manage," he said, and she felt her chest tighten. That was true. She had Riku and a loving father who would always take care of her.

And Hiwatari-kun had no one.

He was alone.

Always alone.

She turned her eyes up to his face, so mature for one so young. When had he given up his youth to turn into so solemn a figure? When had such a silent mien been forced on him? Did he really want to be that way?

Well, even if he wanted it, she did not. He did not deserve it, even if he was sometimes a jerk and a know-it-all.

She would not let him be truly alone ever again.

"Hiwatari-kun?"

"What?"

"If my mom died, would you hold my hand?"

"No."

She smiled. He was lying. She knew he was.


	29. Heaven

**A/N:** I hope you all had a wonderful Easter. Here is the last Easter-themed prompt. He lives.

**Disclaimer:** I never did own them, no matter what the voices tell you.

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><p>Her voice echoed through the Niwa mansion, wrath adding a biting edge of power to each word. "I despise you, Hiwatari-kun! You're a jerk!"<p>

The door slammed loudly behind her, echoing for a moment before settling the house into an unnatural silence.

Niwa hesitantly poked his head out from behind the cushion where he had hidden from the storming exit of the younger Harada. "Um, I'm... I'm sorry, Hiwatari-kun."

The one in question glanced up from the book he had calmly resumed reading. With an upward arch of his eyebrow, he asked simply, "For what?"

Clearing his throat, Niwa set the pillow back on the couch and then attempted to mesh his fumbling fingers together neatly. He cleared his throat a second time, then explained rather miserably, "It's my fault that you keep having to be with Harada-san... it's not fair of me to make you two—"

"It is not your fault, Niwa," Hiwatari cut in, turning back to his book. "As is evidenced by the fact that she is no longer here, the both of us are able to quit each other's presence."

"Well, yes, but... I keep making you two put up with each other just because I want to hang out with both of you—and I'm sure you find it really annoying, but I didn't... I guess I didn't think about it being a nuisance to you," Niwa mumbled, lowering his head as he haltingly progressed.

With a soft sigh, Hiwatari closed his book and rose to his feet. His glance shifted from the guilt-ridden Niwa to the door where the irate girl had made so blusterous a retreat. Turning to Niwa, he gave a slight shrug of his shoulder.

"I do not always find her pleasant company, perhaps, and clearly she does not always find my company desirable. Even so..." he trailed off and shoved his glasses up his nose.

Niwa leaned forward, a mixture of confusion and interest on his face, but Hiwatari merely picked up his bag and shoved the book inside. As he withdrew to the door, Niwa called out after him, dismayed at being left hanging, "Even so?"

Pausing just inside the doorway, Hiwatari turned to meet Niwa's gaze and answered quietly, "Out of everything in my life, from the beginning until now, being with Harada-san—her smiles, her inanities, her very nature—all of that has been the closest thing to heaven I have ever known."


	30. Laptop

**A/N:** Due to a collapse of my computer with the drabbles on it, I had a moment's horror. What if I could not post come Monday? Then I remembered my wonderful beta has a habit of demanding to see everything as soon as I finish it... and thus, IndubitableInk saved the day by having an email of this drabble on hand. Yay!

**Disclaimer:** I relinquish all claims to everything found herein, save the fluff. That was my idea.

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><p>It was the blue hair that caught her eye. Risa's feet stopped automatically and she barely managed to keep herself from rapping on the glass in front of the coffee shop window to get Satoshi's attention. He sat at a table occupied solely by a Styrofoam cup and a small laptop, his fingers darting over the keyboard with dizzying speed.<p>

Glancing at her watch, she quickly calculated whether or not she had time for a slight detour. After a moment more of hesitation, she shrugged and stepped inside.

The first thing she noticed was that he seemed particularly absorbed in his work and her mouth pinched into a smirk as an idea jumped into her head. It had been a while since she had tried to annoy him.

Sneaking up behind him, she watched as his fingers continued to flash over the keys and then, satisfied he was still engrossed, sprang. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her cheek against his hair, nearly knocking him forward into the table.

He, however, did not respond at all like she imagined he would.

"Harada-san," he greeted, no inflection in his voice, locking his computer without once turning to look at her.

"Eh?" she exclaimed, pulling away from him abruptly. "How did you know it was me? You couldn't even see me in the screen!"

He, adjusting his glasses to sit properly again, said blandly, "How many people do I know who would randomly jump on me?"

"I've never done it before," she sulked, feeling inclined to bat him over the head. "And what if it wasn't someone you knew?"

"The probability of my being embraced by a complete stranger in this setting is, as you can well imagine, remarkably low. Regardless, your smell is unmistakable."

"My... smell?" she asked and stepped back a little further. "Since when do you know what I smell like?"

He seemed almost ready to scoff as he turned to look at her. "Harada-san, do you expect me to stop breathing around you? I _am_ observant, you know. You happen to smell of sakura blossoms, which is the scent of your favourite hand lotion, and your hair has a layer of vanilla and laven—"

"Okay, that's just creepy," she cut in, holding up her hand. "All I wanted was to see you spaz out or something, not find out you've been smelling me."

With a condescending sigh, he turned back to his computer. "My senses are acute. My interaction with you has merely lead to my making note of a few tendencies of yours. That aside—I am not averse to physical contact."

"No?" She found herself rather surprised.

"No," he answered, throwing her a wry look. "While I may not look for it, I do not shun it."

"Huh."

"That is not to say I want you to make a habit of jumping me from behind."

"Hmm..."

"Maybe we should pretend I break into hives when you touch me."

"Heh. Coward."


	31. Calendar

**A/N:** My computer is still down, so I had to make this one up on the fly. If this continues, I shall need to hope my memory holds out in remembering prompts I have yet to write, or else I will need to fish (or, cough, beg) for more. The whole idea behind this was me proving I could use any noun thrown my way, after all. It's not my fault everyone gives me easy ones.

**Disclaimer:** I actually keep consistent deadlines.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?"<p>

The sound that proceeded from her mouth resembled a cat trying to hiccup while impersonating a seal. Not bothering to waiting for further reply, Satoshi snatched the wall calendar out of Risa's hold to better examine the destruction wreaked upon it.

Black ink flooded the whole of April, with curling vines and flowers bordering every available margin and corner. The plain heading words for the month and year had been emboldened as well as framed with bubbles. For every boxed day that he had penciled in some appointment or other note, Risa had doodled a corresponding picture.

Of everything, the chibi Dark—tongue stuck out and all—for the box merely circled to mark the day dictated by the latest warning notice was the worst of the whole attack on his calendar. True to the name thief, Dark did not even remain in a single box, but took up space in surrounding boxes.

Still, Satoshi had to admit to himself that there was one particular element of Risa's design that struck his fancy. On the days which he was scheduled to meet Kei Hiwatari, she had doodled a fanged man with a flower sprouted from his head.

"I left you for two minutes," he finally said, lowering the calendar to look at her again.

She waved her hand dismissively. "You needed some personal touches. Your apartment is so dull."

"My personal touches would be more suitable than yours," he pointed out, flipping shut the calendar. "Come on. We need to go to the mall."

"The mall?" she echoed, rather surprised. "I thought you said we were going to the library."

"Change of plans," he said as he set aside the defaced menology. "I need a new calendar."

Her shocked gasp was accompanied by her scrambling after him. "Hey! That's an _original _Harada right there!"

"All the more reason for me to get a new calendar."

"Hiwatari-kun, I never thought you could be so cruel."

"I never thought you could be so cruel, either. That poor calendar."

"That settles it. You _are_ cruel."


	32. Egg

**A/N:** Markers and I clearly have become close friends... But now for an actual surprise! Riku is our POV. What a change. This is my first time in doing so, in more than a hundred D. stories, if my memory serves. Amazing.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters. The human ones, anyway.

* * *

><p>Spread over the island in the Harada kitchen lay a confused rainbow of felt-tipped markers and a few sheets of heavily decorated paper. Risa, perched on a stool at the counter, drew a border of cat-faces on an emptier sheet amid the havoc.<p>

"Okay, that does it," Riku said, setting down the yellow marker she had been wielding against her own stack of paper. "This is the third time I've started drawing an omelet."

"Make me one too," Risa sing-songed, not looking up from her pink kitty.

Riku rolled her eyes at her twin before heading over to the fridge. "You could always say 'please', Risa."

"Pretty, pretty please, my darling big sister," Risa said, glancing up to bat her eyes mockingly.

Riku snorted as she set the egg carton on the counter and popped it open. After counting the eggs she shot a sardonic glance for her sister and said in mild reprimand, "I meant 'be polite', and if that's the way you want to go about it, you can go ahead and burn your own eggs into oblivion."

With a cute pout, Risa clasped her hands together and gazed up at her sister sweetly. "My dear sister, I beg you to give me edible food."

Rolling her eyes again, Riku turned away in defeat and began rifling through the cabinets in search of the required supplies for cooking eggs. How Risa always managed to get her way, despite the best intentions of those she attempted to wheedle, still mystified Riku—until those pleading eyes came out.

"All right, what fillings do yo—Risa Harada, what on earth!" Riku exclaimed as she returned her attention to her sister.

Holding out the egg to Riku, Risa explained in bubbly glee, "Riku-chan, meet Niwa-kun the Egg!"

The once-white egg had been quickly transformed into a somewhat disfigured red face, complete with spiked red hair on top. Riku snatched the egg out of her sister's hand, covering the goofy grin and mismatched eyes, and scowled at the artist. "Risa, we're going to be breaking these, not mounting them on a shelf."

"Oh, you want to keep it now?" Risa chirruped, capping the red marker. "A good idea! I think Niwa-kun the Egg is cuter than the original."

"Wha-? Th-that's not tr—" Riku spluttered indignantly, then felt her face flush at Risa's triumphant snicker. "Look here, Risa, you can't just—"

"Oh, I'm going to do Dark-san next!" Risa laughed, oblivious to her older sister's attempts at correcting her behaviour.

As Risa pulled out a purple marker from the mess, Riku could not contain a grin. "Well, that's one face I won't mind cracking."

Risa uttered a horrified gasp and flung the purple marker away. "How could you say something so heartless? Think of his beautiful face!"

"Yes, yes, I am," Riku hummed thoughtfully, nodding as she returned the smudged red egg to the carton. "I am thinking of it shattering into pieces and how that would shatter his insufferable ego."

"That's terrible. If you have to smash a face, smash Saehara's."

Riku could not help grinning at the suggestion. "Draw a camera, too. No, wait, give me that marker, there. I want to try."

Completely forgetting their disagreement, the two sisters set about feverishly personifying the rest of the shells.

"It looks just like him!" Risa proclaimed, proudly holding out her newest creation.

Riku glanced up from her attempt at their teacher and took a split second before she collapsed into a fit of laughter. The one face she dared not try, her little sister had flawlessly captured. The blank, emotionless anime eyes, the straight-lined mouth, and the overly large glasses, topped with a scribble of sky blue hair struck Riku as the epitome of their egg-art.

"Hiwatari-kun the Egg," she choked out, hardly able to breathe after she pronounced the name, "is definitely... definitely in need of being displayed!"

Upon catching her breath, Riku suddenly stiffened and looked wide-eyed over her sister's shoulder as she cried in horror, "Hiwatari-kun!"

Risa squeaked in matching horror and jumped so violently that she dropped the egg they had been laughing at. With a loud splat, the imitation of Hiwatari-kun hit the ground, spraying yolk and albumen across the floor and side of the counter as well as over the twins' feet. Risa whirled around, already babbling clumsily in an attempt to explain herself and the broken creation, then stopped when there was no one to be seen.

Despite the mess coating her feet, Riku backed away hastily from her little sister's fuming approach. "Now, Risa—it was just for you making fun of Niwa-kun..."

"You almost scared me to death!" Risa squeaked, grabbing Riku's collar and shaking her violently. "You would have been a murderer!"

Jostled painfully by the shaking, Riku tugged at Risa's wrists. "You started it!"

"You ended it!" Risa exclaimed, releasing her sister, and hopped back on her right foot. Lifting her left leg, she stared in dismay as the broken yolk dripped from her sodden sock to the floor. With a moan, Risa peeled off the soiled article. "You made me squish Hiwatari-kun!"


	33. Battery

**A/N:** Thank you, Sapph-ABE, for the prompts Egg and Battery. I cannot wait to do your third. Since these have turned out so well, I have great hope for next week!

**Disclaimer:** As they are not mine, do not ask me how I dared make him act so...

* * *

><p>"Harada-san?"<p>

"Hmm?"

"What is this?"

The Harada twin in question glanced up from her notebook, twirling her pencil between her fingers as she scanned the sheaf of printer paper held inches from her nose.

"That, I think, is chocolate," she said, using her pencil to push Hiwatari's science report out of her face. "Why?"

With the extraordinary grace of movement that told her she was trying his patience, Hiwatari lowered himself into the chair beside her and draped his arm over the back, still holding the paper out as he persisted, "How did chocolate get on my report, Harada-san?"

"Probably because of my headache," she replied, shrugging her shoulders as she leaned back in her chair beside him. "I thought some sugar would be good. It must have gotten on my fingers."

"What were your fingers doing on my report?" he asked as he set the object of his inquiry on the table.

Again she shrugged, finishing her explanation with a grin, "I needed an idea on how to start my own report."

"So you stole mine?"

"I didn't steal it, Hiwatari-kun, goodness gracious. You have it, don't you? I just borrowed it," she corrected him, waving her pencil dismissively. "And I'm not going to copy your wording or anything. I just needed a little help."

"You could have asked me for help," he said as he removed the pencil from her hand.

Picking up another pencil, she clucked her tongue and then said, "I thought this would be faster and less of a nuisance to you. I didn't know you'd be so hung up over a little smudge of chocolate."

She jumped in surprise as the eraser of his pencil smacked into her forehead, then turned her widened eyes to Hiwatari. The offender only lowered the pencil and, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, continued in his usual monotone voice, "The problem is not the chocolate, but the fact that you took my report from my bag and used it without my knowledge."

She blinked twice, then shook her head. "You shouldn't hit a lady over that. In fact, I should sue you for assault and battery."

"Then I suppose I ought to sue you for abusing my property," he countered easily, not so much as blinking at her accusation.

With a scoff, she reached over and avenged herself by hitting his forehead with her own pencil. "It wasn't abuse! It's just a smudge of chocolate!"

"To get the chocolate on it in the first place, you had to trespass through my bag to illegally remove the report." He accompanied those words with another rap on her forehead.

That was simply too much. He had gone mad.

"But you're still striking a lady," she said, punctuating her point with another blow above his glasses.

She could have sworn she saw him smirk for a split second before he smacked her again. "I was unaware of your being a lady, considering your unladylike conduct."

Making sure her third shot stung, she exclaimed, "You are hardly being a gentleman!"

"I never claimed to be a gentleman," he replied, clipping her forehead just as both were blinded by a sudden flash of light.

"Wow, Hiwatari, Harada!" Saehara laughed, lowering his camera. "I never thought I'd see you two hitting on each other."

His laughter changed into a howl of pain as Harada's pencil glanced off his shoulder and Hiwatari's smashed into his nose.


	34. Death

**A/N:** I realized that Mother's Day was coming sometime last week and remembered I had planned writing this particular scene for it. So I scanned my list of prompts (which I am so glad I have back! I love this computer...), and found the most suitable noun for it. Death for Mother's Day? I found it rather amusing.

**Disclaimer:** If it was mine, we would know more about this particular mother by now.

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><p>"Oh, finally," Risa mumbled, shaking her head to knock her bangs back from her eyes. "You are one hard lady to find."<p>

As she knelt on the pavement, she laid a bentou and cluster of white roses before the marker. Upon settling her burdens safely before the grave, she sat back and put her hands on her lap, gazing at the grave that had taken her nearly a half hour to locate. The place was clean enough, but it seemed as though the only visitors were the cemetery workers.

With a small sigh, she started to arrange the blossoms and food in front of Rio Hikari's grave.

"I hope you don't mind that I made the food myself," she said amiably as she worked. "I know it wouldn't be safe for consumption, but that doesn't matter much, right? Since I don't know what your favourite food was, I made a nice selection myself. Not an edible one, if you ask my mother, but I think it'll be all right."

Sitting back on her heels, she examined her efforts critically. After a moment she gave a sharp nod and dusted off her hands. Now, for the purpose of her visit.

"We didn't get to introduce ourselves before, when I first came here," she began, settling in for her prepared speech. "My name is Risa Harada. I'm a friend of your son, Hiwatari-kun. Well, I suppose..."

She paused, glancing around herself furtively, then resumed with a cautious air, "I'm a friend of your son... Satoshi."

When lightning did not strike her dead for daring to utter the name, she continued with more courage. "I thought I should come and pay my respects, since he has already met my family. After all, it was pretty rude of me to talk to him but ignore you when I was here before. So I came to fix that. I hope you don't mind the white roses. I thought they were appropriate. Something about him... seems kind of white. I thought for a little that maybe I should do some kind of blue flower, because of his hair and eyes, which I assume he got from you, since he says it's genetics... but then, I guess it just seems... There's something white—and of course, the meaning is also rather fitting, and I really do—"

Smacking her forehead, she groaned slightly. "I'm sorry. I have such a habit of rambling. I didn't come here to talk about flowers or the weather or anything like that. I came here to thank you."

Nervously smoothing out her black skirt, she glanced at the sky and then back at the grave.

"I wanted to thank you for bringing Hiwatari-kun into the world," she said at last, curling her hands into fists as she willed herself to speak her mind. "There's a lot about him that drives me up the wall, but I came to realize that he's my friend. My _friend_. There are not a lot of people out there who take the time to get to know him. He doesn't seem the sort to get lonely, ever. He's so hard to approach most of the time because he seems like he is working in an entirely different world, one that's too lofty for us normal mortals to understand. But... I don't know. It just kind of happened. I got to know him. We ended up friends."

Her hands loosened on her lap, then reached up to play with her hair. She dropped her eyes to the ground as she continued in a hushed tone, "I don't think I deserve a friend like him, either. I've had good friends and especially kind friends before, but there is something very special about Hiwatari-kun."

She paused once more and shook her head slowly. "No... there's a lot of things very special about him, and I know I don't even see the half of it. But what I do see..."

"Your son," she began again with a bit of a smile, turning her eyes back to the grave, "is amazing. Beyond the fact that he's annoyingly smart and level headed, even when I try to get a rise out of him, there's something... there's just something about him. He's so strong and determined and kind... and if I knew all the words that described him, we'd be here a long time. Still, he's always there for me, however and whenever. I know that I can go to him for anything, whether it's just for him to listen to me or for us to have fun or even for him to protect me from whatever. Standing beside him, I feel like I could dare the world to rush me and not have anything to worry about."

With a small sigh, she dropped her hands back to her lap and murmured, "I hope that someday I can learn to be as good a friend to him as he is to me. I love spending time with him, so I hope he never gets tired of all of my craziness. Did you know? Did you know you have a perfect son?"

She fell silent for a few minutes, lost to thought, and then with another sigh, she got to her feet.

"I just wanted to thank you and tell you... you should be proud. You should be so proud of him," she said as she bowed slightly. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Hikari-san."


	35. Seed

**A/N:** I guess it had to happen eventually. Flower meanings and I are tight, after all.

**Disclaimer:** No bunny ears. No flowers. Just me and my fantasy.

**Flower meanings:**

Pink camellia - Longing for you  
>White camellia - You're adorable<br>Orchid - Beauty (as well as others)  
>Forget-me-not - True love  Memories / Forget me not  
>White violet - Let's take a chance on happiness<br>Daisy - Innocence / Simplicity (and others)  
>Snowdrop - Hope  Consolation

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><p>Her triumph truly was complete.<p>

It took no ordinary fortitude to move the renowned Satoshi Hiwatari from the library when he needed to work; it took no simple courage to meet his icy glare unflinchingly; it took no small persuasion to convince him to come along for window shopping; and most of all, it took no natural skill in conversation to get him to talk.

"Nu-uh!"

"It is."

"Nu-uh!"

"Harada-san, you sound like a broken record."

"Nu-uh," she said, swinging her purse to smack his arm. "No one uses those anymore. We go with those file thingies."

"Digital audio files," he corrected her and earned himself another swat from her weapon of choice.

Before she could resume the argument he had so rudely interrupted with a pointless metaphor, a display rack outside a garden store caught her eye. Emitting a small squeal of excitement, she darted over and spun the rack, eyes darting avidly over the many dangling packets of flower seeds.

When her companion stopped beside her to observe the assortment, she snatched up the nearest packet and proceeded to tap his glasses with the edge. "I think I shall start a flower garden. These will be my first plants."

He pulled the seeds from her hand, then readjusted his glasses as he looked at the name printed on the package. "Pink camellia? I do not think you would have the patience for something needing quite so much care. Regardless, you should go with white. 'Longing for you' is hardly the right meaning."

Indignation at his lack of faith in her abilities vanished under the crushing curiosity that assailed her. She lifted her eyebrows as she took back the packet and asked, "You know flower meanings?"

"Some," he replied with a shrug of his shoulder. "In a way, the language of flowers is its own form of art."

"And you know everything there is to know about that, don't you?" she laughed, returning the packet to its original place.

"Not all," he said, stooping to view some of the lower-hanging merchandise. "However, I know that most art is an attempt to capture. What it is to capture is to be decided solely by those who make and behold... however, the usual answer is this."

He removed a packet of orchid seeds and held it out to her. "Beauty."

"Is this a challenge, Hiwatari-kun? Because I bet you that I know more meanings than you," she said warningly, only to be waved off.

"I would not normally risk myself in a competition I feel I might lose," he answered with a smirk, fitting his hands into his pockets. "I will merely say that I trust you know enough."

"How gracious," she muttered as she rolled her eyes, then spun the rack slightly. "But now I'm determined to try planting some of these."

"Are you?" he said, watching the packets dance as the display swiveled. "Are you going to choose by meaning or by the general simplicity involved in keeping them alive?"

"Are you implying that I can't grow high maintenance flowers?" she scoffed, rattling a few packets with her finger as she glared at him.

He, entirely unruffled, replied with ease, "I only meant that you spend much of your time in activities you would not want to give up to instead tend and prune and weed."

With a huff, she turned back to examine her choices. "That shows what you know. I appreciate flowers and will take care of whatever I choose."

"Of course you will."

"And I'll choose for the sake of mean—oh! Tulips. I like tulips."

Forgetting her annoyance in the face of so many delightful choices for her prospective garden, she allowed the selection to completely engross her. By the time she held three packets in her hands, chewing her lip as she contemplated the choice to be made, her companion queried, "Why did you choose those?"

"Hm? Well, the forget-me-not is nice, and they..." she began slowly, then shook her head, moving onto the other flowers. "I like the white violets, because they're pretty and I'd rather take a chance on happiness than give up. And then the daisies just because of their meaning 'innocence'."

"They also mean 'simplicity'," he pointed out, ducking the resulting swing of her purse.

"Yes, well, I'm not thinking about that," she sniffed, turning back to her choices. She watched him from the corner of her eye as he leaned over to examine the packets on the display, but when he did not seem at all interested in advising her, she held out the packets to him and begged, "Ne, Hiwatari-kun, help me pick. I want the perfect meaning."

"You can be rid of the daisies, then," he replied as he pulled a packet off the rack and straightened himself.

She glanced back down at the seeds in her hands, then scowled and looked back up, ready to retort harshly the implications he had made on her innocence, but found herself standing alone. After glancing around herself in confusion, she hung the daisies back in place and shook her head. If he was going to abandon her to make her own decision, then she would simply have to make the best possible one.

"Maybe... snowdrops, actually," she mumbled to herself, looking back at the rack hesitantly.

"No."

Startled by his sudden reappearance, she jumped slightly, then broke into a laugh. "How can you just pop in and out like that? You're crazy."

"I did not realize silence implied insanity," he commented dryly as he held out a small plastic bag to her.

"Eh? What's that?" she asked, taking it and peeking inside. A single pack of seeds nestled at the bottom, a receipt curled around it.

"Milk vetch," he said, fitting his hands into his pockets.

Her eyes darted up to his face, then back to the bag. "Milk vetch...? I'm not sure I know that those mean..."

When he did not answer her unvoiced question, she put the forget-me-nots and white violets back on the rack, then asked, "So, how much?"

"It was merely a pack of seeds. Do not worry about it," he said with a dismissive shrug.

She gave him a charming smile as she fit the bag into her purse. "Thank you, Hiwatari-kun."

"Though you could always thank me by buying lunch. I am hungry."

"Hey!"

"It was only a suggestion."

"Right, I'm sure."

"You did drag me out here to keep you company, after all."

"See, I knew it! Guilt tripping now. Wonderful."

* * *

><p>Milk vetch - Your presence softens my pain<p> 


	36. Octopus

**A/N:** I was worried when I got this one, honestly. I was thinking I'd end up writing about takoyaki, but I have other food-related prompts I was dreading the lack of variety. Then Risa piped up randomly (yes, we talk often), spouting such a line that I was shocked. My first reaction was "Are you serious? You want to work with that?" She was firm, and now I know why.

**Disclaimer:** I haven't even seen a Japanese bunny in person before...

* * *

><p>"They are entirely without skeleton, which enables them to squeeze through crevices and other tight places that would otherwise be impossible for their size."<p>

As the teacher continued to list the facts about octopuses, Risa let her gaze wander from the enormous tank to her classmates. Though a field trip was less dull than sitting through the same lecture while trapped in a school desk, Risa felt the aquarium was wasted by such droning. No one was going to recall more than a sentence or two.

Her eyes fastened on Satoshi Hiwatari, who stood off a little from the group, his hands fit into his pockets and his face turned up toward the glass wall that separated them from the aquatic snapshot of ocean life. She could not tell if he was asleep on his feet or perhaps looking elsewhere entirely, as his glasses reflected the shimmering light seeping through the tank.

"Of invertebrates, octopuses have shown some of the greatest amounts of intelligence and behavioural flexibility."

A little smirk crossed her face and she inched away from Riku's side, careful to regulate her retreat so as not to be observed.

"Strategies of defense include camouflage, expulsion of ink, speed of flight, and ability to hide."

Kicking the back of his ankle lightly to gain his attention, she whispered, "Are these relatives of yours, Hiwatari-kun?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "Funny, Harada-san."

"Well, I'm pretty sure the only thing you don't do is expel ink as defense," she continued, smothering a laugh.

"I am quite sure I could spill my pen on you now," he replied and turned back to watch the fish gliding through the tank.

Thoroughly undaunted, she whispered a little louder, "I suppose the only question left is if you're spineless."

"Indubitably," he said dryly, removing his hands from his pockets.

"What I want to know," she went on, "is why you feel the need to hide."

That comment truly gained his attention. Lifting his eyebrow, he turned to look at her, though he remained silent. In the wavering, blue-tinted light, he appeared almost surreal, his pale skin matching his unnatural hair. She wondered momentarily if a glimpse at his eyes would make him seem entirely inhuman.

"I don't know what it is you're keeping locked up," she murmured, forcing down the desire to remove his glasses, "but I know you're hiding something. Maybe something dark and mysterious."

"All octopuses are venomous, but only the blue-ringed octopus is known to be deadly to humans."

A little chill ran up her spine as she caught a glimpse of his deep blue eyes, staring so intently at her, unwavering and unreadable.

After catching her breath, she felt a smile twitch on her mouth. "I don't know what you're hiding, but admit it. You're a squid."

"Octopus," he said and she blinked.

"Eh?"

"You were relating me to an octopus."

"Oh. Right. Well, you know what I meant."

"I do. But do you?"

She bumped his arm with her shoulder, then looked back at the teacher. Dull or not, the teacher was so much safer than he was.

Peeking at Hiwatari from the corner of her eye, she smiled slightly. Even if he was not safe, she was going to find out what he was hiding.


	37. Dinosaur

**A/N:** I know, I know, it's short. But I wrote this to-day and two people approved, and since I'd had so much from Risa's POV lately, I scrambled to get something light and also from Satoshi's viewpoint. This prompt gave me just what I needed. This previous week has been the busiest I've had in a long time, too, so do try to forgive the lack of length.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing. Never have, never will, and thus will always be sad. Pity me.

* * *

><p>Her eyes remained fixed on the towering, browned skeleton of the dinosaur, allowing Satoshi a minute to smirk at her mesmerized visage. The school tour through the natural science museum found Risa more impressed than usual. As he was not interested in what the tour presented, he amused himself by studying the living work of wonder that had been pulling him all through the museum.<p>

"It's so huge..." she said with a small shake of her head. "I didn't know that a T-Rex was that big."

Another smirk twitched on his mouth as he spared a glance at the skeleton. "That would be a Muttaburrasaurus, Harada-san."

"Muttawhata?" she muttered under her breath as she squinted at the dinosaur.

"Muttaburrasaurus. It differs most greatly in its smaller head and longer arms—and the fact that it is a herbivore," he informed her, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Shooting him a quick glare before returning her gaze to the bones, she insisted, "It's still huge. I wonder how long it took for them to built it."

"Hmm," he agreed wordlessly, looking at the display, then turned back to her. "Much longer than it would take for you to knock it down."

"Hey!" she squeaked, smacking the heel of her palm against his shoulder. "I'm not _that_ clumsy!"

"You could always look on it as a compliment." He gave her a wry smile. "If you put your mind to it, you can outdo anyone."

"But it wasn't meant as a compliment," she sulked as she crossed her arms, pouting at him.

"Suit yourself."

She followed his advice by kicking his shin.


	38. Tennis Shoe

**A/N:** Went back to my older drabbles and found a couple in desperate need of revision. Why I chose to do them in such a busy time I may never know. I must be strange that way. Even so, I like the concept of this one greatly. I hope you enjoy as well. And an **uwabaki** is the shoes worn inside a school when street shoes are disallowed.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my own fingers, and sometimes I'm left to wonder about even those...

* * *

><p>The gym shoe tumbled to a stop in the empty school hall, ending up on its side. From the direction the shoe had flown, an excited holler burst forth.<p>

"Snow!"

A girl skittered down the hall after the shoe, one foot shod in an uwabaki, the other in a sock half off. Reclaiming the tennis shoe by shoving her stockinged foot partially into it, she turned back the way she had come. Her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth as she squinted, preparing to send the shoe flying once more.

The sneaker spun wildly when she kicked it off and once it clattered to the ground, she threw her arms in the air, shouting, "Rain!"

The process repeated to find the shoe upright and she nearly sang "Sunny, sunny!" as she hobbled after her tennis shoe.

Unfortunately, the next flight did not go quite as smoothly as the others.

Too late did she notice the door open and utter an incomprehensible squeak of warning before the projectile landed solidly on the blue head of her unsuspecting classmate.

All fluster and worry, Risa skidded to a wobbling halt beside him, her words stammering out in a jumble. "Hiwatari-kun! I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Did it get your glasses? I didn't know you were coming! I'm so—"

"Harada-san," he interrupted, turning to her as he cautiously rubbed his head, "settle down. I am all right."

"Still, I'm sorry," she said nervously, picking up the shoe. "I had no idea you were coming."

"I highly doubt you would have hit me if you were aiming for me," he said blandly and she leveled a fierce glare at him.

"Wanna see for sure?"

"What were you doing?" he asked, undaunted by her threat.

She, caught off guard, began to fiddle with the object in her hands and mumbled, "Oh... I was just... doing the weather game."

"Why does that require a weapon of mass destruction?"

Hiding her mirth, she answered as evenly as she could, "Oh, it's an old fortune telling game, kind of. You kick off a shoe and then however it lands will tell you what tomorrow's weather will be like."

He stared at her with the slightest upward twitch of his eyebrow, inducing her to add meekly, "I was waiting for Riku to finish with her practice so we could walk home together... and... since I had my gym shoes on hand..."

"I see," he said and she saw him roll his eyes slightly. "Enjoy your game. I will see you tomorrow."

Picking at the shoelaces, she watched him walk down the hall and wondered why he had to be such a spoilsport.

"Harada-san."

She stiffened, wondering if he had read her mind. "Yes?"

"What will the weather be like tomorrow?"

She grinned despite herself. "Well, it seems first it'll be rainy, then it'll turn into snow, then back to rain, and then it'll be sunny. And I can't say how the day will end, because someone's big head got in the way and messed everything up."


	39. Fridge

**A/N:** Happy (belated) Father's Day! Somehow, it always ends up as his parents...

**Disclaimer:** Not even Kei. I don't even get the guy's real motives. So confusing.

* * *

><p>Of all the faces he wanted to see, the person sitting across from him in his living room happened to possess the very last on the list.<p>

"Don't look so disappointed, Satoshi," Kei Hiwatari chuckled, leaning back in his chair and resting his ankle on his knee. "I had some free time, so I thought I would swing by here and spend it with you."

"I thought we had agreed you were to stay away from my apartment," Satoshi answered in his well-practiced monotone, staring intently at the man lounging before him.

Kei shrugged his shoulders. "I need to check up on you once and a while. Make sure you have not been reduced to living in a hovel, that you have enough food and drink—ah, speaking of; do you have any iced tea?"

"Yes."

After a moment passed in stiff silence, Kei sighed benignly, then grinned. "Would you mind getting me some?"

Without a word, Satoshi rose to his feet and turned to the kitchen. Even if he had to listen to the meddling fool, he could at least be annoying about it. He spent enough time around Harada-san to know how to do that.

Speaking of that particular troublesome female, she had, thankfully, left his apartment some hours before. If Kei had happened upon her visiting, there would be no end of trouble from him. Firstly, Kei would discourage him from ignoring his mother's advice on interaction, and secondly and more aggravatingly, would punish him by telling everyone and anyone possible about Satoshi's secret girlfriend.

A slight chill ran down his spine as he considered the repercussions, but the shudder ended in abrupt paralysis as his gaze lighted upon the refrigerator.

Plastered across the fridge door, top to bottom, was an array of brightly illustrated diagrams. Heading them off were the bubble-shaped words "Why Breakfast is Important" and each following sheet of paper had a similarly shaped number in the progression of steps involved in making her point. Every bit of paper not used in depicting the action of making and consuming breakfast, as well as the over-exaggerated benefits to be gained from such an enterprise, was consumed in random images ranging from flowers to kittens. How exactly those helped to enhance the point of needing breakfast he failed to grasp.

He leaned closer, eyebrows twitching together as he read over the slightly nonsensical list she had painstakingly prepared for his benefit. A snort worked its way out of him as he reached the end of her list to find the conclusion, "You're already a genius, so since eating breakfast improves mental functions, you could probably cure cancer before you're twenty!"

"Satoshi?"

His reflexes flared just in time to enable him to yank the fridge door open and snatch out a bottle of ice tea before Kei Hiwatari fully entered the kitchen.

"Do—ah, good." The man took the bottle extended to him, then chuckled in amusement. "I was wondering if you had gotten lost in your own home."

"Just looking over some notes," Satoshi replied blankly, turning back to the fridge to idly sift through the contents for a drink.

"Always so industrious!" Kei remarked with a fond sigh as he exited the kitchen.

Carefully closing the refrigerator, Satoshi let his shoulders sag a fraction in the overwhelming rush of relief. He pushed his hair back from his forehead, realizing full well the doom he had narrowly avoided.

Quickly, he started to remove the papers covering the fridge, muttering under his breath, "You will be the death of me someday, Harada-san..."


	40. Potato

**A/N:** Long week. I am glad this was edited early. It is a dangerous thing, losing one's beta for a week.

**Disclaimer:** I'd claim the sweet potato, but frankly, I don't think I should. I don't even know how to cook the things.

* * *

><p>Hardly waiting to fit the oven mitt over her hand, Risa yanked open the oven door and pulled out a baking sheet, its contents rolling dangerously toward the edge of the pan as she moved it to the stove top.<p>

"Eeeh, I'm so hungry," she exclaimed, pulling off the mitt before tapping her fingernail against the tinfoil-wrapped sweet potatoes. "I'm going to eat one before dinner."

"I should think they are too hot to be consumed presently," Satoshi said as he came up behind her, tucking his book under his arm.

"Thank you, genius," she sarcastically replied, peeling back the foil as carefully as she could. "I will let it cool a little first."

"When you get caught stealing food before dinner, I am not going to offer assistance," he said dryly, leaning against the counter as he observed her attempt.

She did not glance up as she scoffed. "Yeah, well, I can make off clean with it. So unless you rat me out, I'll be fine. And if you do," she warned with a flick of her hand under his nose, "I'll uninvite you to dinner."

"I hardly think your mother will allow that," he said and she shot him an impish grin.

"She will when I tell her that you had to go home because of a personal emergency."

"What emergency are you planning?"

"One that involves life and death. Specifically yours."

"I see."

With a triumphant laugh interrupting their conversation, she grabbed an edge of the tinfoil and yanked it clear of the potato. Crumpling the foil in her hand, she eyed the food hungrily, then glanced at the law enforcement officer by her side. He did not seem inclined to expose her criminal behaviour, so she poked the roasted flesh of the potato to test the temperature.

"Aaaiii," she whined quietly, shaking her hand to encourage cool air to encompass her finger. Ignoring the smirk leveled at her, she fetched a plate and returned to abscond with her snack.

"You should wait," he advised her, but she dismissed him with a glare.

"I'll move it fast. Once it's off the hot pan, it'll cool more quickly," she explained, her hands hovering on either side of the potato. She took a deep breath, then snatched up the food from the pan and turned to dump it on the plate. Unfortunately, the burning sensation was stronger than she had anticipated, causing her to drop the potato too early. As it tumbled straight for the floor, all she could do was step back and wave her aching hands with a cry of pain.

At the sight of the falling tuber, the logical Satoshi Hiwatari sadly fell prey to reflexes and snapped out a hand to stop it. The moment the potato struck his palm, he jerked his hand away, sending it flying upward as he did. Risa gave a gasp, reaching out to catch her snack, but let the food drop to the floor after again succeeding in burning her hand.

Silently, the two stared at the roasted sweet potato, split open and flattened slightly on the floor between them.

Breaking the stunned quiet, Satoshi commented dryly, "Cooking aside, I give your presentation a three out of ten."

A squeak of indignation and a smack to his arm later, she pouted at the steaming food. "I'm still hungry."

"What? You are not still going to eat it?"

"Eeh! That's gross!"


	41. Fireworks

A/N: My sincerest apologies. It was a sore blow, having to miss my first Monday... But I have a very reasonable excuse! There was a very large thunderstorm, and not only did it kill my power for most of Saturday, it also completely fried my internet... connector... modem... thingy... Ahem. It was only restored Tuesday. However, I was encouraged to wait for to-day, July 4th, since I missed my mark of July 2nd (even though one of my friends kindly agreed to sneak onto my account for me after I relayed word by word via phone what I had written... aren't friends awesome?). Since I already missed Monday, I figured waiting for Wednesday would not kill anyone. If it did, I profusely apologize.

Disclaimer: Something brilliantly witty herein inserted to disprove any chances I would have of deceiving you into my ownership of these delightful characters...

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><p>"We're going to miss the show!"<p>

"How can we possibly miss it? We can see it now."

"Don't be stupid—you have to be closer!"

Risa dragged Satoshi deeper into the crowd of festival-goers who were gathering to watch the fireworks. When they reached a comparatively clear spot under the dazzling display of exploding colours, she released his hand to clasp her own together. After an evening filled with sugar enough to keep her up all night, the fireworks seemed especially captivating and brilliant.

"It is rather loud this close," her companion commented in his usual monotone.

In far too good of a mood to be put off by his lack of enthusiasm, she grabbed his sleeve and tugged. "Exactly! It's a completely different experience when you're this close!"

"Indeed," he replied, smirking slightly as he brushed her hand away.

She let him do so, but stuck her tongue out at him in recompense.

His smirk grew and he commented dryly, "You are such a child."

"I am not!" she exclaimed, affronted.

"_You always treat me like a child!" _Her own voice echoed in her mind, swiftly unearthing memories of her last viewing of fireworks. Dark had been standing beside her, so casual and aloof, his purple hair almost black in the night. Something about that time and the words shared was unfathomably significant. How odd to find in the present, then, that in place of the dashing and mysterious Phantom Thief stood Satoshi Hiwatari beside her.

As unlike Dark as he seemed, staring up at the sky with the blazing colours reflected on his glasses, she could not help but wonder. The differences contrasting him from Dark could be termed staggering, not merely from the fact that he lacked Dark's recklessness, vivacity, and vogue, and yet somehow, in some way, the two seemed strikingly similar. Though Satoshi kept to himself, she had started at last to catch glimpses of the person underneath. Something in him vaguely impressed upon her mind that he held back some lurid mystery; she could not shake that feeling, no matter how she tried, because whenever she convinced herself that he was a normal youth, she saw. His eyes always unnerved her, undoing her complacency as they showed for a brief moment what lingered behind his indifferent mask: sadness.

Satoshi Hiwatari was sad.

She had no doubt about that, even if she tried to pretend otherwise. In that sadness, also, lurked something that unerringly reminded her of Dark. Though they continually showed their disparity, she could not deny that there was some link between them, if only in her mind.

Perhaps it was only the fact that she had shared such a special moment with Dark in the same scene she found herself in with Satoshi. Certainly, she could never feel the same way about Satoshi as she did about Dark, but she could not deny that her chest felt tight again, as it had when with Dark, though as different from that time as Satoshi was disparate from Dark. Dark she knew was never to be hers, and that was why she had to tell him that she would treasure him regardless, in case she never got the chance again—but with Satoshi, she felt the need to speak, too. She had to tell him, not farewell, but that she was ready to stand by him as his friend, for as long as it took, until he could be rid of the sadness haunting him.

She would take care of him; she would make him smile, if only during the time they spent together.

"What are you staring at me?"

Sucking in a choked breath, she jerked her eyes up to the sky instead, snapping, "I am not."

"You were," Satoshi insisted, his gaze boring into her intensely.

Cheeks flushed, she lashed out at him to keep from complete embarrassment. "I wasn't staring! Quit imagining things!"

"Harada-san," he said with an upward twitch of his eyebrow, "the idea is to watch the fireworks, not be one."

Clenching her fist, she did her best to remind herself that she wanted to make him smile, not bleed out slowly and painfully.

"You really do try to steal the show," he said with a shake of his head, turning back to look at the sky. "The fireworks can hardly keep up."

Before she could think of an appropriately acidic remark, she stopped in surprise. She could not be certain, but she thought, she truly thought, that she had heard him murmur, "You are already the more beautiful."


	42. Restaurant

**A/N:** Funny how wary I am of thunderstorms now. I used to love them. Now I hug my laptop through them and tell them begone. I'm just glad to be able to meet my deadline.

**Disclaimer:** I can barely draw a stick person unless my hand randomly feels enabled. I couldn't ever make one chapter of a manga. Woe is me.

* * *

><p>"Whaaaaa?"<p>

Her astonishment bordered on comical. She gaped at him, her eyes and mouth wide, nearly dropping her half-eaten lunch onto her knees.

"But Hiwatari-kun!" she said, grabbing his shoulders to shake him. "You're too young for a job!"

"Thank you for reminding me," he replied blandly, removing her hands from his shoulders.

"Did you give them a fake identification?" she demanded, then turned away from him as she pondered the other possibilities. "You do look old enough... Or did you bribe them?" With a gasp of offended propriety, she slung back around to point in his face. "Hiwatari-kun, I never thought it of you!"

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but she was already racing down another trail of thought.

"But you're too rich to need a job—ah! Are you some super genius that the government snapped up and now you're a spy?" She looked him over eagerly. "And the blue hair is just brilliant—no one hides so well as when they stand out!"

"Harada-san..." he cut in wearily, but found himself interrupted by her laughter.

"You're so easy to tease, Hiwatari-kun," she giggled, mirth dancing in her eyes as she smirked at him. "But I _do_ want to know why you have a job and how you got it."

He raised his eyebrow, managing not to roll his eyes at her, and answered, "I live alone, Harada-san. I need to pay for my food, my apartment, and anything else that comes."

"What's the point of having a father if he's just going to dump you by yourself and make you live like an adult?" she asked contemptuously, her mirth replaced by her dislike of Kei Hiwatari.

Satoshi fought back a smirk. She rivaled him in his antipathy of the man.

"Hiwatari-kun!" she exclaimed, face brightening as she turned to him. "Just where do you work?"

His eyebrow rose again. "Where?"

"I can't see you working at a convenience store," she laughed, clearly imagining it despite her professed inability. "It would just be too weird. You stocking shelves with chips and candy..."

Before he could comment, she was off again. "You _would_ fit in at a bookstore, and that would explain all of your books—and no fast food place would accept you. You'd scare the customers if you manned the register, and you'd ruin the food."

"Thank you," he said dryly, but there was no stopping her.

"So that would mean any fancier restaurant is off the list—waah, no!" Here she stopped herself to laugh. When she caught her breath, she looked at him, grinning from ear to ear. "You could be the _busboy_, ne?"

"I could," he agreed in monotone, face carefully blank, which afforded her further amusement.

"I can just see it now. I'd be out with my family having dinner, and then I'd see _you_ clearing _tables_!" Her joy was evidenced by her gleeful wriggling. "And then I would point and laugh at you, not caring that everyone would stop and stare."

"I would then be without job, Harada-san," he interrupted, crossing his arms.

"Why?" she asked, stopping her laughter enough to be curious.

"I would spill what I had cleared from the table over your head."

"Eeeeh? You would not!"

"We will just have to see then."

"I'm going to start stalking you."

"Good luck."


	43. Hero

**A/N:** This may be a little cliche, but I hold that the end makes it worth it.

**Disclaimer:** I do not think any of us are in any doubt over my ownership. If so, please refer to future disclaimers.

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><p>The sight was rather pitiable.<p>

Hemmed in on all sides by chattering and fawning females, Satoshi Hiwatari stood with resolute calmness, replying to their questions and comments with his finest display of icy, monosyllabic diction.

Risa slowed her pace, peering down the hallway at the scene, trying to decide if she was more concerned for his survival or amused by the situation that had entangled him.

"You should join us for lunch, Hiwatari-kun! It would be fun to talk to you," one of the girls proclaimed eagerly, staring with doe eyes up at the boy.

"No, thank you."

His terse reply did nothing to enlighten the gaggle of unwanted companions to the fact that he was not interested in discourse, because another girl suggested, "We could walk you back to your class and talk about it."

"That will not be necessary," he declined in monotone, causing Risa to decide he was more pathetic than laughable.

Or maybe laughably pathetic.

"Then how about we walk home with you?" one offered and was met with a chorus of excited agreement.

Before she quite realized it, Risa was walking toward Hiwatari-kun quickly. He noticed her at once, a mixture of relief and despair glinting for a moment behind his glasses.

"Hiwatari-kun, I'm so glad I found you," she said curtly, hardly glancing at the girls who turned to give her rather disapproving looks. "Kaai-sensei has been searching for you."

He bowed slightly to his captors before excusing himself. "Pardon me."

Risa grabbed his rolled-up sleeve and tugged him along behind her, guiding him back the way she had come. "I think that he was going to talk to you about your last science project or something. He wasn't being very clear. I'll take you to him."

When she rounded the corner, hiding both of them from view of the disappointed flock of girls, Risa released his sleeve and gave him a brief wave. "See you later."

Resuming making her way to class, she fit her books back under her arm with a glow of admiration of her brilliant work. Maybe a career in acting lay ahead.

"Harada-san?" Satoshi called out after her, a hint of confusion in his voice.

She looked back at him, her eyebrow lifting. "What?"

"What about the teacher...?"

Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she laughed. "Poor you. Those girls addled your brain all right. I thought it was obvious. You looked like you needed to get out of there, so I saved your life."

Before he could formulate an appropriate answer, she stuck out her tongue at him.

"You can pay me back later. I take check, but cash is preferable."


	44. Umbrella

**A/N:** Had to happen sometime.

**Disclaimer:** My ears are quite normal. Not even remotely bunny-esque.

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><p>"Hey, wait up!"<p>

Over the rattle of rain against his open umbrella, her familiar voice broke through and pulled him from his contemplations. Turning around, he was met with the sight of Risa Harada sprinting toward him, her hair clumping in the downpour and her bright red uniform already mostly maroon due to her race from the school building.

"Harada-san, what are you doing?" he asked as she stopped next to him, panting and spluttering.

When he held his umbrella over her, she pushed it back. "I'm already wet, Hiwatari-kun. You might as well keep dry."

"Why are you wet?" he pressed, stepping near enough to shelter the both of them with his umbrella.

"I think it might be raining," she replied with an annoying smile. Before he could so much as roll his eyes, however, her tone changed to one of solemnity. "Are you all right?"

If he was all right? He was not the one to have darted through the rain without an umbrella. "Of course I am."

"You're sure?" she pressed, shoving her wet bangs out of her eyes. "You seemed kind of depressed when you were leaving."

For a moment, the full significance of her words did not penetrate. She had run out after him because he had looked depressed?

"I am fine," he said, glancing over her at the school. "I might have been thinking about my father. That would explain any sourness of expression."

Her laugh rang out sweetly, even if it was at another's expense. "If you're sure, Hiwatari-kun."

"I am," he confirmed, looking back at her. Despite her soaked state, she had never looked more like herself: a kind, considerate person who could act selflessly with such ease, so naturally that one could believe it was impossible for her to act otherwise.

A beautiful person.

"Well, then, I'll go back and wait with Riku for our ride," she said, turning around and stepping back into the rain.

"Wait," he said quickly, thrusting the umbrella over her head again. "Take this."

"The school is just right there," she said with a laugh, pointing to it. "A little more rain isn't going to kill me."

"No, but you would look like a drowned rat by the time you made it back," he retorted, grabbing her hand. "As it is right there, I will walk you."

Pulling her back under the cover of the umbrella, he started to walk back toward the building. She stared at him in amazement, then gave him a brilliant smile. "Thank you, Hiwatari-kun."

Perhaps it was not something that he was supposed to do, but he would protect her with all he had. He could not help but try.

After all, her hand fit so comfortably in his.


	45. Movie

**A/N:** Everybody has bad days. The way to cope with them, however, may not always be the first that comes to mind.

**Disclaimer:** The doubt that you have is seriously beginning to worry me.

* * *

><p>Idly pushing the the two DVD cases back and forth across the floor, Risa gave a pathetic sigh. Did she want a cheesy romance and ice cream, or an equally cheesy romantic comedy with chocolate cake?<p>

Oh, the painful decisions of a sulking middle school student.

"You both look stupid," she accused the DVDs, resting her chin on the heel of her palm. Sprawled out as she was on the living room floor, she could just reach the coffee table behind her with her feet and thus began to kick it. Even if it was not the cause of her problems, it could at least take a bit of the abuse.

"What are you doing?"

Her eyes widened and she lifted her head from her hand to stare at the one intruding upon her wallowing. Hiwatari-kun stood in the doorway, his book bag draped over his shoulder, and stared back at her with an annoying pitiless expression.

"I'm going to watch a movie," she said, turning back to studiously review the two options she had narrowed down.

He remained silent and she ignored him pointedly. If he was going to interrupt her sulking, he could at least be on the receiving end of frostbite for once.

Before she could remember the menu attached to either movie, he dropped his bag on a nearby chair and walked to the window.

She paused her examination of the cases long enough to stick her tongue out at him.

"It is too nice of a day for you to stay inside," he decreed, then turned around slowly to face her, giving her time to quickly resume observing the DVDs and assume an air of lofty indifference. "You should go for a walk."

"No way," she said, sitting up and raising a random movie to ward off his awful suggestion. "I'm going to watch this. I want to watch something on my day off from school."

"No."

She blinked at his reply, then glared at him. "_Yes_, I will. You can't make me do anything else."

His response was simply to snatch the DVD case out of her hand.

She scrambled to her feet, eyes wide, and demanded, "Give it back! I'm going to watch that."

"I think we should go to the park," he said in monotone, not heeding her. "The sunshine will do you good."

"I don't want a tan," she snapped, diving for the stolen property. "I want you to give that back!"

Hefting the DVD overhead, he employed his superior height and reach against her. "You have too much energy to be sitting inside doing nothing."

She released his sleeve and stopped bouncing in the attempt to snatch the movie back. With a scowl, she crossed her arms and said, "I'm too tired. I don't want to play to-day. I just want to sit at home and watch my movie."

"You are a terrible liar," he said, lowering the DVD.

"Am not," she sulked, grabbing at the DVD with the intention of smacking him with it.

Before that plan could be put into effect, he hid the case behind his back and smirked at her. "You are. It is a wonder you even try any longer."

A squeak of annoyance burst from her and she dove for the movie, but he switched hands and held it off to the side, preventing her from getting it back. Every time she thought she had it, he would whisk it away without difficulty.

"I'm glad I called you."

Risa's grip on her classmate's sleeve loosened and she turned to look at her sister. Riku leaned against the door frame, smiling benignly at the display before her. "Risa just can't help but be lively around you."

Gasping slightly, Risa shot a disbelieving glance between Hiwatari-kun and Riku, then swiveled upon her sister. "So this is _your_ fault?"

"Uh-huh. You shouldn't be left to sulk when nothing is wro—"

Riku cut off to run for her life, leaving Hiwatari-kun to settle comfortably into a chair and read a book with the ambiance of bickering twins blazing through the house.


	46. Paper

**A/N:** My brain is scrambled to-day. I'm worried there's a glaring error in here... well. Must be brave and make the best of it regardless.

**Disclaimer:** Despite my constant and consistent refutes, you people still wonder if I own this enough to read...?

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><p>Lazily flopping the paper back and forth beside her face, Risa stared out the window at the heat curling from asphalt, distorting the familiar view beyond the intensity of the summer sun. The only noise in the room besides the soft rustle of the paper she held was that of the fan, oscillating slowly between the two students reclining on the couch.<p>

As a bead of sweat tickled her temple, slipping down from her hairline, Risa lolled her head to the side to look at her silent companion as he read the newspaper.

"Hiwatari-kun," she whined, dropping her tired hand to her lap, "you have a generator. Why not hook it up to your air conditioning?"

"I need it for the refrigerator," he countered, not looking up from his reading. "If it is too hot here for you, go elsewhere."

"That's a good idea," she said, pushing herself upright in her eagerness. "Let's go find some place with working air conditioning. This heat wave is going to turn me into a puddle of sweat soon."

"I need to stay," he answered her, turning a page as he did. "The power will come back eventually."

"Then stick me in your fridge," she muttered as she slumped back against the couch. "I'm going to die of heat stroke."

"You can go," he reminded her, but she merely huffed.

"You can't get rid of me that easily. It's hotter out there in the sun. I'm not going by myself."

He rolled his eyes slightly, muttering under his breath, "You came on your own."

"Yes, because I knew you were prepared for emergencies like this. I just didn't have enough sense left from the heat I suffered in my house to realize you'd be a miser about your generator," she sniffed, sitting forward and setting her makeshift fan on the table.

As he did not deign to answer the accusation, she allowed herself the privilege of believing she had gotten the best of him and began to fold her fan into a different shape.

"We could go to the pool," she ventured after a minute of silence, keeping her eyes focused on her project.

"I told you I am staying," he answered with a heavy sigh.

She pursed her lips, then glanced back at him. "What if I pay for the gas for your generator that you would save by staying?"

"When have you paid me for anything?"

"That's not fair!" she exclaimed, eyes widening in offense. "I paid you back for the money you lent me for the vending machine last week!"

"What about your lunch in the same week?" he questioned, lifting an eyebrow though his eyes remained on the newspaper.

She sat back with all the dignity she possessed. "That is quite different. Lunch was more expensive."

"Mm," he hummed, a triumphant smirk quirking on his mouth. She, unperturbed, leaned over and settled the newly made paper hat over his sweat-dampened hair.

After he stared a moment at the pointed front of the hat jutting over his forehead, he looked at her expectantly.

"Most dashing. It ought to work well with any outfit," she said, settling a hand on her hip as she surveyed her work. "I think this more than settles my debts."

"Without a doubt," he replied, folding the newspaper. "Shall we?"

"Eh? You mean you're actually going to go?" she cried in amazement.

He merely lifted his eyebrow as he set aside the hat. "Where else but the pool am I allowed to push you over?"


	47. Handle

**A/N:** This is dedicated to one of my most loyal reviewers, Snow-Aquamarine. She requested this sort of scenario after I posted Ribcage, and this prompt presented an excellent opportunity. Thank you, Nomie, as well as all of my other reviewers. You mean a lot to me.

**Disclaimer:** The only thing I own is my own gratitude. Okay, and maybe the students...

* * *

><p>"Hiwatari-kun, Hiwatari-kun, wait!"<p>

Stopping at the school gate, he turned around in search of the one who had called him. She, sprinting toward him, waved eagerly for his attention, her school uniform flapping against her legs and hair streaming out behind. He glanced at his watch then back at his friend, wondering if she could manage to be brief for once in her life as he had to go to work.

With a breathless laugh, she skipped to a stop in front of him. "I'm glad I caught you. You're in a hurry to-day."

"I am," he agreed, and she kindly cut to the chase.

"Want to come over to my house for dinner? Riku and I got a new game you'd absolutely love to cream us at."

A smirk worked its way over his face. "Thank you, but not tonight. I have work."

"Aw," she whined, kicking his shoe. "You really ought to quit or something. You're no fun."

"I did not apply for the job to amuse you," he reminded her, though she managed to find it amusing regardless.

Laughing, she turned and headed back for the school building. "Of course not. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he agreed, fitting a hand into his pocket.

As he turned away from the sight of her retreating figure, something hard and small collided painfully with his abdomen. For a split second, the only thing he could do was stare straight ahead and wonder if his ribcage again had been cracked.

"Hiwatari. What's the big idea?"

Slowly, he turned his head to see a student, second year Kunimatsu Oshima, perched on a bicycle, backing a few steps away after having successfully rammed the handlebar into Satoshi.

The big idea? Presently it was to knock Kunimatsu from his seat and continue on to work.

A first year student appeared at Kunimatsu's side, slightly less confident than his friend. "What's your problem?"

"I have somewhere to be and you are in my way," Satoshi answered calmly, ignoring the throbbing of his stomach. He had suffered worse plenty of times.

"You're not getting out of this one so easily."

Eyebrow twitching slightly, Satoshi turned to look at the appearance of a classmate of his. Clearly he had managed to do something of greater significance than he realized.

Kunimatsu took control of the situation and demanded, "Why are you so friendly with her?"

As much as he would enjoy to play ignorant, there was only one female they could possibly be referring to. Employing his finest monotone, he replied, "I did not know it was a crime to speak with Harada-san."

"Don't give me that!" Kunimatsu snapped, then took a calming breath. "No one can help but notice you're incredibly _friendly _with the younger Harada. We all know you're super popular with girls, but you can't have this one."

He stared at Kunimatsu, his darkening eyes allowing a bit of chilly dislike to show. No, he could not have that one. He would never try. There was too much at stake for her.

"Thank you for reminding me," he said, turning away and attempting to walk past his failing interrogators.

"Hey, we're not done here!" Kunimatsu exclaimed, trying to block Satoshi's path with the bike.

In a flash, Satoshi's hands clenched over both handle and hand, crushing Kunimatsu's fingers into the rubber of the handlebar. The boy gasped in pain, but then managed to meet the icy glare leveled at him with a glare of his own.

"We are finished when I decide we are," Satoshi said softly, though his tone retained the hardness that intimidated grown men without fail. "You need to understand one thing. I do not care how much you think you like Harada-san—until you come to terms with the fact that she can make friends with whom she pleases and that you have no right to keep her isolated from them because you feel they threaten your chance with her—" He leaned forward, voice quieting further as his grip tightened on the boy's hand, "—I will be sure to remind you not to bother her with your childishness."

Releasing Kunimatsu's hand before he broke any bones, Satoshi raked his gaze over the others and they flinched away from his lethal stare.

"I believe..." he said, drawing out the words carefully, "that we are finished here."

He turned and walked away before they could gather themselves and try again. His frustration might get the better of him.

After all, they were right.

He had almost let her in. He could not do that to her.


	48. Coat

**A/N:** I'm rather glad most of you do not know the pains this one took... I think summer might have eaten my brain. How gruesome.

**Disclaimer:** To be frank, if I could convince you that I own anyone bit Hisano, you should check to see if summer ate your brain also.

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><p>Peals of laughter echoed through the art room, distracting the other students from their work. Though the cluster of girls bending over the somewhat messy banner were not members of the art club, they had been granted permission to use the supplies in the room to make a present for their friend. Their employment seemed namely in cracking jokes and dropping things, but the decoration managed to proceed steadily.<p>

"You made it too pink, Risa!" Riku exclaimed in frustration, snapping out of a fit of giggles to shove her sister away from the overly pink script.

"Did not," Risa replied piously, placing an extra exclamation point after the words "Happy birthday, Ritsuko" to add still more of that particular colour.

Riku jabbed the sticky, red end of her own brush toward Risa accusingly. "It was supposed to be _rainbow_, not just _pink_."

"It's not 'just pink'," Risa replied with a sniff, turning her attention to the empty space below Ritsuko's name to add a rabbit to the decorations.

"Not there, you'll get in the way of my flower chain!" Hisano cried, dismayed. "Do it somewhere else, Risa-chan!"

"But there's nowhere else for the bunny to go," Risa argued and Riku snapped upright to glare at her in disdain.

"A _pink_ bunny can go _anywhere_," the older Harada stated, slamming her hands down on the table for added emphasis as she loomed toward Risa. "You already got to write most of the words, so you can let Hisano finish her chain."

Risa's mouth curled into a wry grin. "She can do that while you're washing the paint off your hands."

With a cry of dismay, Riku yanked her hands off the wet paint and glanced frantically between the smudged banner and her coloured hands.

Trying to control her laughter, Risa dropped her paintbrush to clutch her aching sides. Hisano, suffering from the same hilarity, tried to stammer something about the paint fumes making her giddy as Riku threateningly waved her wet hands at the two, demanding they stop laughing lest she use them as towels.

"It's not funny," Riku whined as she fished a handkerchief out of her pocket with her fingernails. "It was just an accident."

As Riku's anger turned into a sulk, Hisano finally managed to regain her breath and snatch a handful of napkins from the bench where they had been deposited after cleaning an earlier mess. "I'll help," she offered, folding the partially-used napkins to cleaner sections.

"I ruined the banner," Riku sighed as she examined the hand prints she had left behind.

Hisano, scrubbing off Riku's fingers and making a mess of her own, piped up brightly, "Well, you added a creative signature! I don't think that's ruining it."

"A signature?" Risa echoed in merry derision, not at all inclined to help repair Riku's ego.

If the paint smell made Risa hyper, its effect on Riku seemed one of despair, for she heaved a heavy sigh. "I can be so stupid."

"It's fine. We can paint over the smudges," Hisano insisted as she gave up on her vain attempt to use the napkins, which had merely smeared her own hands with paint. "Risa is more inclined to do ridiculous things, anyway."

"Hey!" Risa exclaimed in an injured tone, feeling the accusation hardly just in light of the present circumstances, but neither girl paid her any mind.

"Well, as long as I'm not being _that _ridiculous," Riku granted, smirking.

Risa, instead of shoving her paintbrush up her sister's nose, only huffed and shoved the brush into the bowl of pink paint.

"No, not _that_ ridiculous. In fact," Hisano continued with a sagacious nod, "you and Ridiculous rarely meet up, but when you do, you just transform it into amusement."

Before her sister could respond, Risa lifted her paintbrush and spun it over her head for emphasis. "Transform it—or paint it?"

Unfortunately, Risa had not considered the fact that the brush was full of paint, and both Riku and Hisano ducked belatedly from the splattering of pink. Her stunned expression turned to one of mute horror, however, when a voice from behind commented dryly, "Harada-san, I would recommend you paint only designated surfaces and not the world at large."

Risa shot to her feet and spun around, coming face to face with a pink-speckled Satoshi. Before she could choke out an apology, Riku and Hisano dropped onto the nearest chairs they could reach to avoid sprawling over the floor in their excessive mirth.

"Hiwatari-kun, it suits you!"

"Pink and blue go _so_ well together!"

Need for air kept at bay any further comment from the two, but Risa felt no better with the lack of their commentary as Satoshi remarked blandly, "I was about to ask what you were doing, but that seems to have been a foolhardy enterprise on my part."

"I'm sorry," she blurted at last, clapping her hands over her face to avoid attempting to wipe off his lopsidedly pink-freckled face.

Wholly ignoring the two still laughing at his state, he removed his glasses and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket to clean them.

Chagrined, Risa examined a large stripe running from his shoulder to his collar as it seeped into his shirt. "I ruined your shirt," she observed stupidly, looking up at him. "Do you have anything else to wear...?"

"At home," he confirmed, wiping his face quickly before replacing his glasses.

"But I don't think you'd want to walk around with pink paint on you," she said, trying to come up with some solution. As the idea struck, her face brightened and she burst out, "How about you wear a coat?"

"In the middle of summer?" he asked, staring at her incredulously.

"See, Riku?" Hisano forced through her laughter. "What did I tell you? Ridiculous is better friends with Risa than with you. It never leaves her alone!"

"So I guess that means it doesn't leave Hiwatari-kun alone, either," Riku laughed, catching herself on the table before she tipped over backwards onto the floor.

Satoshi, finally heeding the two gigglers, lifted his eyebrow in their direction. "That Ridiculous never leaves me alone I will grant, but you seem to have overlooked one important detail: Ridiculous is decidedly female."

"Oh, really?" Risa said through grit teeth, all remorse forgotten as she reached for the bowl of pink paint menacingly.

While Risa had never known Satoshi to run, his hasty retreat from the room proved he could.


	49. Door

**A/N:** I am posting this one because one of my friends has finally read up to this point in the manga. This is a little celebration on my end for it.

**Spoiler:** This has manga tie-ins. It takes place in Chapter 7 of the Insomnia arc, from Volume 15. I use information rather liberally for the size of this story, so if you have not read that chapter, you should hold off on this.

**Disclaimer:** Not a whit, not a what, not a word—well, perhaps a few words...

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><p><em>"Harada-san...!"<em>

Even though he had only disappeared, she could not help but think that he had shattered.

Pushing herself back to her feet, she rubbed her hands slowly over her face. Everything was falling into place: why Riku seemed so different; why Niwa-kun was losing ground to Rokuto, who turned out to be the artwork _Insomnia_; and why, most importantly, she could not remember Dark-san's face.

All of the facts, even as they pieced together, started making her head feel thick with sleep. Though she tried to cling to the information she had been given, exhaustion crept over her.

_"If you start to fall asleep, just... just remember me!"_

With a small huff of annoyance as her mind cleared, she glared at the sky. She did not need to remember Hiwatari-kun—she needed to remember Dark-san. If she could only remember his face, everything would be all right.

"Even if I can't remember what he looks like, I'll find my way back to him," she muttered, curling her hand into a fist in determination. "Niwa-kun needs help, too, remembering Riku."

A little giggle worked its way out of her. "It'll be like saving a damsel in distress—poor Niwa-kun."

After Niwa-kun's excellent performance of Freedert, he would never be able to wholly shake off that image. If he could only be as brave and cunning as Dark-san, he might stand a chance of making her understand why her sister liked him so much.

But even though Niwa-kun could not possibly compare to the great Phantom Thief, she knew that her sister really did love him.

"That's enough for me, too," she murmured, then leaned against the railing of the balcony.

Propping her chin on her palms, she stared up at the night sky. Everything looked so real that she found it hard to believe that it was nothing more than a mirror. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. If only Dark-san would come and take her away.

"But that would still leave Niwa-kun," she said, straightening and gripping the railing. "Riku needs Niwa-kun, and since I can't wait to be rescued, I'll have to prove I'm brave enough and smart enough to be with someone like Dark-san!"

That settled, she turned and marched back into her bedroom to start sorting through her options. Niwa-kun's fate, not only her own, rested on her shoulders. Despite not knowing where to begin, she had to do something.

She paused as she started to shut the door behind herself, then glanced over her shoulder at the balcony. Perhaps he would be able to come back. Judging by what he said, he had a good idea of what was happening. Certainly, if he came back, he would know exactly what to do. He said he could not exist directly in the mirror world, but she knew that he would help her. He would not leave her to face the problem alone.

Leaving the door slightly ajar, she shuffled over to her bed to think. She needed some sort of plan, but she would wait for him.

Just in case.


	50. Books

**A/N:** Beta visiting family, self feeling sick... I'm amazed in part that I am getting this up at all. If you find any glaring mistakes, you may shoot me, but also remember I could use a smidgen of sympathy.

**Disclaimer:** Not even a bunny mask. Though I did consider making myself a fan with the kanji for "rabbit"...

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><p>"I don't know if I'd have the forbearance to make a career out of being an editor," Riku said, bouncing her school bag against her leg as she walked.<p>

"But you help me out so much with my writing. It comes so naturally for you," Risa pointed out as she shifted the textbooks she carried from one arm to the other. "You should consider it."

"But I doubt they'd let me pick my clients, at least right off," Riku replied sensibly, grinning. "And you know I have no patience for idiots."

After a moment's silence, Riku swung her bag over to smack her sister. "Ne, wake up, sleepy."

"You don't have to hit me," Risa said and stuck her tongue out at her assailant. Shifting her armload again, she added, "Besides, I was going to say that you put up with me plenty, so you have practice."

"That is true," the elder agreed with a nod just as Risa caught her shoe against the heel of her other, sending herself tumbling forward. Throwing her arms out to keep herself upright, she spilled her load all over the floor, one of the books nearly smashing Riku's foot in the process.

Risa dropped to her knees, muttering irritably and gathering her dropped books as her twin laughed tauntingly, "You weren't supposed to prove the point, stupid!"

Smoothing out some bent pages, Risa glared at Riku. "That wasn't the intent. Help me pick up."

Before she could decide whether to hit Risa over the head for the demand or to merely give in, a gentleman appeared out of thin air. He collected the few books left and offered them to Risa, saying, "Only you could manage to trip on a flat surface."

Her smile radiated only warmth as she took the books from him. "Don't be silly, Hiwatari-kun. I'm sure there's someone else capable of that on the planet."

"Maybe somewhere," he conceded, his countenance retaining the normal lack of expression.

"We should have lunch together and discuss the logistics of finding someone else who does, then. I could form a club with them and keep out of your hair," Risa ventured, smiling hopefully at him as she settled her books securely in her arms.

A faint hint of a smile curved the corner of his mouth, then he nodded assent. Without another word, he walked past them down the hall. Riku watched him for a few seconds, eyebrow rising, then turned to Risa, who, as per usual, appeared entirely natural and unconcerned.

With a quick swing of her book bag, Riku clipped her over the head.

"Ow!" Risa exclaimed, shielding her head with her arm to prevent another hit, nearly spilling the books again as she did. "What did you do _that_ for?"

"You dropped your books on purpose, didn't you?"

Lowering her arm and assuming an air of dignity, Risa sniffed, "Once in a while, divine intervention on a bad day must happen."

"A bad day? But you were perfectly fine earli—" Riku cut off as Risa gave her an exasperated look. "Oh..."

Glancing down the hall after Hiwatari-kun, she squinted in bemusement. He was having a bad day? How on earth could Risa tell there was anything out of the ordinary when his face was so blank all the time?

Then again, if anyone could, it would be Risa.

That particular person, wholly pleased with herself, commented with a smile as Riku looked back at her, "Divine intervention, or feminine."

Riku nodded solemnly. "Which are not to be confused."

After failing to smack her sister's head, Risa huffed, fitting her arm back around the books, and settled for insisting, "They can be the same thing, thank you very much."

"Just never where you are concerned," Riku agreed, backing away from her sister quickly.

Threateningly, Risa lifted a book to pelt at Riku's head. "Oooooh, okay, you asked for it!"

"Face it, Risa!" Riku laughed, spinning around and darting down the hall. "Would divine females beat up their sisters in revenge?"


	51. Music

**A/N:** I need to learn to edit sooner than Monday. Lots of shortcuts. Not good for image. Heh. However! I think that faulty or not, you will find the pure fluffiness of this overcomes both error and cliche.

**Disclaimer:** I only hear the music.

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><p>Barely suppressing a sigh, Satoshi looked at the clock over the doorway; only a half hour had passed and still much of the work in cleaning the classroom remained unfinished. Though Saehara had not spent more than five minutes in the classroom, his destructive influence had not only seen to it that the screen in the back window be torn, but also to convince the other male students to help him hunt down the solution to the wreckage. Riku Harada and Ritsuko Fukuda, not about to stand for the shirking, had vanished in pursuit. Their collective racket, produced namely by the chief mischief maker of the lot, could still be heard in the hall, quieting only from increased distance.<p>

He glanced at the only other person left in the room, who stood resolutely at the window, striking the blackboard eraser in time with the music on her iPod. If she was annoyed with the boys' shirking of responsibility, she did not show the faintest sign.

Setting the last chair on the stack by the wall, he wondered if the cleaning would be accomplished faster if none of them returned.

"Eeeeehhh?!"

He lifted an eyebrow at Risa's bewilderment, silently observing until she spun on him and demanded, "Where did they all go _this_ time?"

"Saehara punctured the window's screen an—"

"Eh? Wait, hold on," she muttered, pulling an earbud free, the plaintive notes of a violin mingling with a female's voice. Risa dropped the cord, letting it dangle, and prompted him, "What were you saying?"

His eyebrow soared. "You should turn down your music so as not to damage your ears, Harada-san."

"How am I supposed to hear anything when I'm in a closed room with Saehara unless it's loud?" she laughed, putting the eraser back by the board.

"He is no longer in the room," he pointed out with a smirk. "You should not have such concentrated noise so near your eardrum, regardless."

"Can't help it," she responded dismissively, fetching a broom from the corner. "I live in the same house as Riku."

"Your sister is not that loud," he said, taking the broom from her hands, to finish the task he had begun as much as to keep the advantage of weaponry from her.

She snatched the broom back, scoffing, "Oh really? She might seem sweet and innocent on the outside, but she can yell louder than me when she wants."

"I rarely consider her 'sweet and innocent'," he replied, shrugging as he grabbed the cord and pulled the other earbud from its place.

In light of completely losing her music, she did not accept the chance to joke about her sister. "Hey! Give that back. I was still listening to it!"

Ignoring her, he fit the piece in his ear, then scowled at her as violin assaulted his senses shrilly. Sulkily, she surrendered the iPod to him and watched as he turned the volume down considerably.

_Time dances, whirling past; I gaze through the looking glass and feel just beyond my grasp is heaven._

His eyebrows twitched upward and he turned a questioning glance to her. "You are listening to an English song?"

"Mhm!" she responded, chipper again. "Riku found it last night and we both just fell in love with it."

Removing the iPod from his hand and dislodging the stolen earbud, she added, "I've been listening to it pretty much nonstop ever since."

"Do you understand the lyrics?" he queried, straining to hear the rest of the song from the earbud she left to rest on her shoulder.

"I haven't bothered to look up the things I don't know yet. I like making my own meaning just from the sound," she replied, spinning the broom in her hand as she turned to sweep from the corner outward. "I don't even get the full title. Just that it has 'Dark' in it."

He cut off her giggle with the words, "'Dark Waltz'."

"Right, that. What does the word mean, anyway?"

"Waltz. The dance," he replied, doing a small box step as she glanced at him.

The demonstration delighted her thoroughly. Laughing, she pointed the handle of the broom at him. "I didn't know you danced, Hiwatari-kun!"

"I can, somewhat," he replied, smirking a little at her amusement. "I just avoid it when I am able."

"Well, then, I shall waltz with a different partner," she replied with a toss of her head, then curtsied to the broom, tipping it to bow in return. Holding her gangly partner with both hands, she danced free of the corner and spun over the floor, attempting to sing along with the music from her iPod. Her pronunciation was heavily accented, but her familiarity with the song plainly showed. Though she did not keep precisely on key, he listened intently, a slight smile turning the corner of his mouth. Her truest nature showed as she danced in her own little world—so careless, so free, and so sweetly innocent.

"_Dance me into the night, underneath the moon shining so bright. Let the dark waltz begin, oh, let me wheel, let me spin. Let it take me again, turning me into the light._"

She glided lightly over the floor, making full use of the area cleared of desks, perfectly content. The only injustice was that her partner seemed entirely ignorant of the fact that she had for the moment transformed herself into a princess.

Taking her hand into his, Satoshi fit his other around her waist. As he brushed aside the fallen broom with his foot, Risa blinked at him in surprise. "Hiwatari-kun—"

"You can hardly do it properly by yourself," he said simply, then continued the step she had been executing when he interrupted.

A brilliant smile blazed over her face and she settled her hand over his shoulder. "So true."

Unable to resist, he smiled softly in answer to hers. She followed his steps without hesitation, her singing ended as she let the song and dance absorb her attention.

After a moment, she started and tried to pull her hand free of his grasp. "Ah, you can't hear the music. I'll turn it up."

He tightened his hold on her hand. "I can hear it."

She relented with another smile and let him lead her over the floor, wholly unaware that the music he danced to was their own.


	52. Train

**A/N:** This is it. My first full year of posting here. I want to thank all of my readers, old and new, who have found and followed me, as well as those who take the time just to read bits here and there. Your support, silent or in review, has made my day time and again. My thanks.

**Disclaimer:** Just the track, my friends, just the track.

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><p>Lazily finishing off her lunch, Risa let her eyes roam the cafeteria. Where on earth did Hiwatari-kun go during lunch? More often of late she came to notice that he simply vanished during the lunch break, only to reappear just before class. She knew he did not eat breakfast—did he not eat lunch, either? How could such a genius be so completely stupid? He might wish to survive namely on the intellectual, but his body probably needed more nourishment than soba for dinner regardless.<p>

"Oh, Risa-chan! Good!"

Risa looked up to see her friend Ritsuko, smiling and breathless, clutching a piece of paper in her hand. She dropped down on the bench beside Risa and pushed the paper over Risa's bentou box. "Can you come? My mother is going to be taking a whole bunch of us to the beach. I've been making a list of people who agreed."

"I wasn't the very first you asked?" Risa cried in mock offense, clapping her hand over her heart.

Ritsuko waved her pencil dismissively. "You're already on the list to invite, but you kept disappearing every time I tried to ask you."

"I suppose I'll forgive you, then," Risa conceded with a grin as she glanced over the list of names. "All those people are coming? Is your mom taking a bus?"

"My mother said to invite as many people as I want and then she'll figure out how to get them all there," came the chipper response.

Risa scanned the list, vaguely noting the check marks beside some of the names, but failed to find the name she wanted. Looking back up at Ritsuko, she suggested, "You should invite Hiwatari-kun, too."

"Eh, Hiwatari-kun?" Ritsuko echoed, looking at the paper and turning a faint pink. "But... I don't think he'd want to go."

"If he doesn't want to go," Risa pointed out dryly, tapping her chopsticks on the side of her bentou box, "I think he knows how to decline an invitation. If he would like to go, though, you should give him the chance."

"Asking Hiwatari-kun takes a lot of courage," Ritsuko defended herself, though she obediently added the name.

Smothering a smirk, a habit required after extended exposure to said Hiwatari-kun, Risa nodded. "Yes, I guess it does. But I'll come, of course. As long as it isn't Wednesday."

"Nope. This is on Friday, so we can spend a late evening!" Ritsuko chirruped, clearly pleased. "If everyone is willing to bring money, we can even have dinner on the boardwalk instead of packing something."

Brightening as she caught on to her friend's eagerness, Risa nodded emphatically. "That sounds great! We should definitely do that."

"Riku said the same thing. She suggested we get ice cream for dessert, too."

"Ice cream," Risa sighed happily, closing her eyes. "That sounds even better." A grin flashed over her face. "And that reminds me of the time when I made Hiwatari-kun get a sundae. You should have—"

Ritsuko held up her hand, interrupting with a wry, "Risa, does _anything_ happen now that _doesn't_remind you of Hiwatari-kun?"

"Eh? What?" Risa blinked at Ritsuko, confused, but the girl only shook her head.

"I don't think there's anything left in the world that you can't connect to Hiwatari-kun. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were in love with him."

Recoiling in horrified indignation, Risa scolded sharply, "Ritsuko Fukuda, don't you dare talk like that!"

"I said if I didn't know better!" Ritsuko cried, lifting her hands in innocence. "It's just what it sounds like sometimes."

"Well, it's not true," Risa huffed, turning back to stab the stray remains of her lunch. "We're _just_ friends."

"Unlikely friends," Ritsuko added, turning to the safer occupation of doodling on the list of names.

Risa gave her a sideways glance, agreeing silently. Most people considered Niwa-kun and Hiwatari-kun an odd set of friends, but she had to be be equally odd, if not more so, beside the stoic, gentlemanly Hiwatari-kun. Despite the general opinion of him, she found herself hard pressed to think of a better person. His company and even his unparalleled nature of taciturn gentleness had become indispensable to her over the time they had spent together. She found herself seeking him out incessantly, whether it was for help or conversation or merely to enjoy his silent companionship.

She blinked, tardy realization creeping over her conscious. When had it happened? When had Satoshi Hiwatari become her best friend?

"Risa!"

Snapped out of her contemplations, Risa swung her head around to look at Ritsuko.

"Sometimes you get as zoned out as Niwa-kun," Ritsuko laughed, rolling her eyes condescendingly.

Risa laughed along, not interested in revealing her train of thought to her friend. No one at school could possibly understand what she saw in Hiwatari-kun, so fixated as they were on his looks and imposing demeanour.

"So, I should mark you down as attending?" Ritsuko asked, pencil poised and ready.

With a smile, Risa nodded. "You bet."

And she would make sure that her best friend would be attending as well.


	53. Maid

**A/N:** Just barely scraped this one together in time. Brain-dead is not a good state for editing, ne? Didn't think so.

**Disclaimer:** I actually try to keep consistent deadlines. Proof enough?

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><p>Ever since he had attained an apartment on his own, he found himself rarely taking the time to clean it. A nigh permanent disorder remained in his living environment, despite his inclination to remain strictly organized. None of his folders or files ever came to be misplaced by his own hand and his management of the officers under his command remained concise and methodical. For some time, he had dismissed his inclination to allow untidiness to permeate his living premises as the norm for a "bachelor's quarters."<p>

Harada-san had kindly dispelled the misconception—the relative cleanliness of his abode was in direct correlation with the lack of feminine influence.

While she insisted that she had a perfectly legitimate excuse to turn his apartment into shambles, any attempt he made at ascertaining that particular information was thwarted by a laugh and a shake of her head, which she generally accompanied by tossing some object to the floor.

"Wow, look what I found!"

From his position on the couch, his feet pulled up to avoid the manilla files scattered over the ground, he could not see what she had located in the hall, so his eyes remained trained on his book as he commented dryly, "Simply amazing."

"Why do you have toy handcuffs, of all things?" she asked, coming into view again, deftly sidestepping the litter on the floor.

He blinked, then lifted his eyes from the page to see Harada-san fiddling with the gold handcuffs he had forgotten to place in his bedroom.

"That is not a toy," he informed her slowly, formulating a plan to distract her long enough for him to relieve her of the item she had unearthed.

"Of course it is," she laughed innocently as she fiddled with the cuffs. "How many police officers do you see wandering around with _golden handcuffs_?"

"Very few," he confessed, his voice tinged with sarcasm. To be strictly accurate, the number in question was in proportion to the amount of blue-haired, fifteen-year-old police officers.

A decisive click ended his attempt at devising a method to take the cuffs away from her. Removing his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed faintly. Where had he left the key?

"Uh, Hiwatari-kun...? How do you get them off?" she queried after a moment of trying to wiggle free of the handcuff nestled snugly around her wrist.

"By using the right key," he responded, turning back to his book as he replaced his glasses.

The couch springs squeaked slightly when she plopped down next to him, still trying to work the handcuff open. "So, are you going to help me get it off?"

"Not until I finish this chapter," he replied, deciding the wait would serve her right and keep her occupied with the puzzle she had managed to create for herself.

"No, you said we'd go get lunch," she argued, jabbing her wrist out to jangle the handcuffs in his face. "I found what I was looking for, so it's time to go."

"Go to lunch after you trashed my apartment?" he asked skeptically, lifting his eyebrow at her.

She grinned impertinently, lowering her arm. "Well, can I help it if you don't have anything fun to do here? I was looking for games or movies or _something_."

"You know my schedule," he said with a roll of his eyes. "I do not take the time to play."

"Yeah, but I was kind of hoping to find a secret stash of manga or a hidden 3DS."

The look he gave her made her dissolve into a peal of giggles as she tried to amend her words, "Okay, yes, it's unlikely, but you've got to have _something_ fun to do!"

"Oh, I do."

"Eh?" Her eyes widened, seeming to glint with eagerness. "What is it?"

The snap of the handcuff as it closed around his wrist made her blink. With a smirk, he answered her mildly, "Making sure you clean up the mess you made."

She looked around the room at her handiwork, then back at him. "What, _now_? But I'm hungry!"

Getting to his feet, dragging her arm along with him, he continued to smirk at her.

"You should have thought of that before demolishing my house."

"You're heartless!"

"And you are noisy. Come on."

"I'm not your maid!"

"No, you are my mess maker. Get up."


	54. Pancake

**A/N:** I only realized a few hours before Tuesday that I had not posted. Here I was thinking I was prepared. Cough.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing bunny about me.

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><p>Riku held the plate nervously. "Are you sure you can do it, Risa? We've already lost enough to the floor."<p>

"You said you weren't going to eat them anyway," Risa sniffed, gripping the handle of the skillet with her oven mitts. "Anyway, I've figured out my mistake. I didn't throw them high or hard enough before. I'm going to do it now."

Turning her back on her unconvinced sister, she grit her teeth and glared at the pancake. This time it would make it to the plate.

"What are you doing?" Hiwatari-kun's voice came just as she sent the pancake flying. With a squeak, she dropped the pan back to the stove top and spun around, searching for the missile. Some part of her knew that it would end up on his face instead of the plate.

Regardless of her intuition, she saw only Riku gaping and Hiwatari-kun, bag over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow spectacularly close to his hairline.

"Wh-where'd it go?" she faltered, searching the floor for the missing pancake.

"Look up, Risa," Riku said, setting down the plate to shakily put her hand over her mouth.

Wide-eyed, Risa lifted her eyes from the floor to stare in disbelief at the pancake stuck on the ceiling. Snorts of laughter at last burst free from behind Riku's hand, making the younger twin's cheeks smart with embarrassment. After a moment, Risa lowered her gaze to pin a glare on her friend.

"You distracted me, Hiwatari-kun!" she snapped, yanking the oven mitts from her hands. "I would have made it that time!"

Unimpressed by her accusation, Hiwatari-kun walked over to stand beneath the new decoration on the Haradas's kitchen ceiling. "How did you manage to get it to stick...?"

Before Risa could spit out an answer, the pancake started to release its hold on the ceiling. She shot her hands up instinctively to catch the falling food, but his greater reach enabled him to catch it instead—as well as answer his own question. Hot batter remained inside the pancake and it splattered and broke as he caught it, landing half in his palm and half on his face.

Riku's laughter rose to a squealing shriek as Hiwatari-kun yanked his glasses from his face, nearly running to the sink to wash his burning face. Risa saved the glasses from falling to the floor with the remains of her failed pancake, then watched anxiously as he doused his face with cold water.

"Hiwatari-kun, are you all right?" she asked, grabbing a dish towel to scrub his spattered glasses. "Should I get ice?"

"No, thank you," he said, turning off the water.

His face, reddened from the burn, resumed its normal calmness as he dried it off with the hand towel. Reflectively, he glanced at the spot on the ceiling. "I sometimes grow too careless. I forget what a hazard it is to be friends with you."


	55. Tea Cup

**A/N:** I had so much fun looking up pictures for reference... and reading about tea. And learning about Japanese malls. My beta has infected me with the fact-bug. I'm doomed.

**Disclaimer:** If I did own these characters, I imagine I wouldn't need to learn about Japanese malls. I would simply know. Oh well.

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><p>Going to the mall with Riku and Niwa-kun meant three things for Risa: one, it meant she would need to finish all of her homework early; two, that she would be forgotten an approximate half hour after arriving; and three, she would need to text Hiwatari-kun and demand he join her.<p>

Truthfully, she did not mind being left behind by the two lovebirds. She enjoyed seeing her good friend and her twin get along so well as much as she delighted in having material with which to tease her perfect older sister. Beyond that, who was she to complain about being able to drag an uncomplaining Hiwatari-kun hither and thither through the mall?

"Oh, wait, Hiwatari-kun," she said, backtracking a few steps. "They've got new cups in."

Wordlessly, her companion stopped in front of the small tea shop, glancing idly over the displays. Risa bent over to examine the cups, separated by little trails of dried tea, set out on low glass shelves. A few were Western style, with elegantly sculpted handles and a soft sheen from the glaze coating them. Flowers and undulating shadows of colour bloomed over some, attractive and quaint, but the one that caught her eye held nothing but a whisper of pale blue along its rim.

"I'm going in," she stated, straightening at once.

He had barely glanced her way before she ducked into the shop, eager to examine her find.

Gingerly lifting the white tea cup from its place on the shelf, she exhaled quietly in joy. At last, the piece to her collection she had been missing.

For several years, with her own allowance, she had gathered with care an assortment of tea cups for her room. Though she had found many beautiful and appealing pieces over that time, the limiting factor of her collection was that each cup represented a person in her life. For her parents, she had chosen matching cups, one grey and brown, the other cream and blue. Much to Riku's disdain, she had a white, crimped cup with red on its rim and inside. Risa had selected some for her friends, like Ritsuko and Yuki, and more recently, Niwa-kun. Though she never told him, he had a red tea cup with a finely curved handle sitting in her room.

To date, the only person who had eluded her hobby had been Hiwatari-kun.

"This is just right," she mumbled, carefully turning the porcelain in her hands. Even in the soft light of the shop, she could see the thinness of the cup by the distinct silhouettes of her fingers through the sides. The blush of blue on the rim, though too light to match his sky blue hair, gave hint to his distinction from the white.

She glanced over her shoulder at Hiwatari-kun, who had followed her inside to peruse the selection of teas. Blue defined his features, certainly, but even so, the underlying impression of white that emanated from him never left her mind entirely. Perhaps the impression came from the purity, the calmness in his actions and words, as if there was nothing to doubt about him, no hint of deception even as he remained aloof from the world.

Looking back at the cup in her hands, she lifted it to the light. How easily the beams penetrated the veil—if only she could just see distinctly beyond it.

After a moment of luxuriating in the perfection of her discovery, she walked to the cash register. Hiwatari-kun, already in the middle of purchasing some _kabusecha_, glanced back at her and offered quietly, "I will buy that for you, if you want."

"No," she refused with a smile, wrapping her fingers protectively around the tea cup. "No thank you, Hiwatari-kun. This is something I have to get for myself."

He lifted his eyebrow, unused to her turning down his offer to pay, then smirked a little as he pulled out his wallet to pay for his purchase.

She watched him, smiling softly as she waited her turn.

One day, she would get a chance to see beyond the thin veil.


	56. Puddle

**A/N:** Pulling out some older ones. I didn't realize how far back some had fallen in the posting order.

**Disclaimer:** My capacity to own these dear characters is about the same as owning... something very hard to own. Yeah.

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><p>The rain thrummed gently against the side of his apartment, creating a soothing break in the wonted silence. All of the books surrounding him went untouched as he reclined on the couch, allowing himself a span of peaceful oblivion, only heeding the endless melody of the rainfall. He rarely indulged in such abandon, but his exhaustion and the calmness which pervaded his darkened quarters gave enough seclusion from reality that he, for an hour and more, closed his eyes and thought of nothing save the stillness.<p>

His tranquility could hardly be expected to last. A soft knock on the door interrupted the solitude—however, he felt fully justified in rolling over, turning his back on the intruder.

When the knock came again, only louder, he sighed and opened his eyes, staring at the couch cushion in front of his nose. Even when he at last decided to allow himself peace, the world refused to acknowledge his decision.

Getting to his feet, he rubbed a hand tiredly over his face and through his hair. Another knock reminded him why he was standing and he sighed, walking to the door. Of all the days for a visitor.

After releasing the locks with decided slowness, he opened the door to reveal a bedraggled creature. She stood with her hands tucked under her arms, her teeth chattering and her hair plastered pathetically over her face, and the whole of her soaked to the bone.

"Harada-san," he murmured, brow drawing together as he surveyed the sorry spectacle she presented, "what on earth...?"

Before she managed to stammer a word, he grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the rain. She half stumbled into the apartment, clinging tighter to herself, and mumbled her thanks. She did not bother to peel off her sodden shoes, but rather sank to the floor and tugged out the ribbon hanging limply in her wet hair.

Without a word, he left her where she knelt and went in search of towels. She did not protest his absence, her gaze remaining on the floor. When she was swathed from head to foot in towels and had accepted a mug of tea, he sat down in front of her, lifting one knee and resting his elbow on the ledge created.

"Why were you out in the rain without an umbrella?" he asked at last, quietly. Even with the beating of the rain outside, the stillness within did not want to be shattered.

"I don't know," she said, running her fingertip over the edge of her mug.

He waited a minute for her to offer any further information, but finally queried, "Why did you come here?"

She remained silent for a moment more, then closed her hands around her tea. "Hiwatari-kun... have you ever said something in a fight that wasn't necessarily true, just because you wanted to get... just because you didn't want to listen to what the other person was saying?"

She glanced at him, then dropped her eyes, self conscious. "Because they were right and you didn't like it, and you wanted them to stop?"

"No," he replied simply and she sighed, her shoulders slumping.

After a moment, she mumbled agreement, "No, I guess not."

He watched as she shrank a little further into her covering of towels before he expounded in the attempt to soothe, "I rarely speak to anyone, Harada-san, and it is not as if Niwa is prone to argue. You are the only other person who would have the chance to hear me do so."

She attempted a smile, but dropped her eyes again after a moment. "I guess so. You're not that petty, anyway."

"No. I am instead severe and calculating," he said, shaking his head faintly as he looked at her white fingers. "I would rather show a person error, even if they are essentially correct, all the while keeping an outward calm."

"At least you're nice," she sighed, lowering the mug to the ground. "I'm nasty and annoying about it."

"But you have a conscience," he pointed out, lowering his knee so as to sit cross-legged. "You will not go long before apologizing for your mistakes."

"Sometimes," she said, then ventured a tiny smile at him. "Other times I'll just hit you."

"I think I prefer the apology," he said dryly and she smiled a little more before exhaling and bowing her head.

"Why are you always such a good friend?" she mumbled, pulling the towel tighter around her shoulders.

He smirked slightly, glancing away. He was only a good friend because she extended her hand in friendship to him. No one else outside of the curse would try.

"Because you would hit me if I was not," he answered, earning a soft laugh from the girl.

"I might. I don't just use it for an apology, you know."

"It is a miracle you do not strike me more, then."

She scoffed at him before shaking her head and mumbling the question, "I don't suppose you have an umbrella I could borrow?"

Rising to his feet, he offered her his hand. With a determined sigh, she took his hand and pulled herself up, dropping most of the towels in the process. He pulled out his umbrella from the closet and gave it to her with the instruction, "Next time, bring your own."

"I will try to remember," she replied with a smile. "I prefer taking showers indoors, after all."

He opened the door for her, then dropped his eyes to the floor, humming in the back of his throat thoughtfully.

"What is it?" she asked, observing his face curiously as she wrapped her ribbon around the umbrella's handle for safekeeping.

"You leave with my umbrella," he said, lifting his eyebrow slowly, "and leave me with your puddle. I am not sure I appreciate the trade."

His umbrella lashed out and smacked him on the leg, followed by her words, "Sometimes, Hiwatari-kun, sometimes!"

Smiling slightly as he bowed to her, he said, "You are forgiven."


	57. Piano

**A/N:** Now this is an old one. It got pushed off and pushed off, and now heaven knows how long after I wrote it, it will be shared.

**Disclaimer:** Perhaps if I had the blood of bunnies in me, I would be able to draw. Or at least stop the overwhelming assault of my cousins, the plot bunnies.

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><p>"Do you play?"<p>

Risa glanced up from her snack to Hiwatari, then followed his gaze to the piano in the adjoining room. "Oh, no, not really. My mom does, though. She's really good."

Looking back at him, she noted the subtle intensity with which he observed the instrument. After a moment, she ventured, "Do you?"

"Hmm?" he asked, eyes flickering to her briefly before returning to the piano.

"Do you play?" she expounded and he, slowly drawing his gaze back to her, shrugged slightly.

"Not much, no."

"So you do play, at least some. Show me."

He gave her a look that most considered condescending, though it never fooled her. She could always see the vague trace of amusement in his eyes.

"I suppose I could try, though I have not touched a piano in years."

"Why not?" she asked, trailing after him as he walked into the sitting room where the piano resided.

He merely shrugged again as he replied, "I have been busy and I have room for a piano at my apartment."

Lowering himself onto the bench, he stared at the keys, his visage inscrutable. She perched on the edge of a nearby chair, watching him expectantly, but with accustomed patience. It never helped to rush him.

After nearly a minute, he set his fingers on the keys and gently, hesitantly pressed. The combination fell flat, but he merely switched the position of two fingers and tried again. A more pleasant result ensued and the flicker of an odd smile passed over his face.

With that, his fingers started to dance over the piano, producing a strain of Chopin. Riddled though it was with flaws as he tried to remember the exact flow, she could not help but be impressed with his skill.

"Let me guess..." she said, watching as he gently nodded his head in time with the music, "you taught yourself to play over a weekend?"

The song trailed off and he threw her a smirk. "Actually, I played for three and a half years."

"You don't say. Well, that sounds a little more human," she teased and he made a sound distinctly like a chuckle before replying, "Yes, Harada-san, I do have some human tendencies."

"That's a surprise," she said with a roll of her eyes, but his attention riveted again on the instrument.

"Do you have any sheet music?"

She paused, biting her lip, trying to recall where her mother kept the books of music. "Eh... somewhere. Um..."

"Never mind," he said softly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "I will simply..."

Her curiosity piqued, she watched him expectantly. Before she asked if he was attempting to remember more classical music, he straightened his back and laid his fingers over the keys. The first few notes were pricked and light, but then a sound flowed from the piano that reminded her of standing beneath a sakura in the spring, the silken kisses of falling petals brushing her upturned face. Before she found herself wholly transported to the living freshness of that scene with the scent of the damp breeze stirring around her, the melody altered, mellowing into deeper notes that had no memory—only a deep, resounding emotion that made her skin crawl.

When the last few notes melted away, she shifted her gaze slowly from his hands to his face. His eyes remained closed, his head swaying ever so slightly in rhythm with the silenced music, and for once his whole being seemed to lay before her unguarded, allowing a glimpse of true, vulnerable feeling in him.

After a moment, she dared query softly, "What is that song called?"

"'Risa'," he answered simply, setting his hands on his knees.

Her face brightened at the title. "Eh? Like my name?"

"No—it is your name. I composed it only now."


	58. Stage

**A/N:** This one is a bit more of a stretch, prompt-wise, but I think it makes enough sense that I can get away with it.

**Disclaimer:** Your confusion on this point makes me wonder about you.

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><p>Despite the frequency of failure, inevitable failure, swallowing it yet again left a bitter taste in his mouth. How the Phantom Thief managed to elude his every trap, regardless of the ingenuity and care taken to develop and maintain them, caused no little frustration. Though the Inspector Saehara at times blamed the young High Commander for not taking enough interest in the continual defeats, the accusations were groundless. While Saehara only knew how to bluster and rage over the mistakes and losses to anyone and anything in hearing range, Hiwatari's method was to fit his hands in his pockets and walk home, grimly contemplating the next stratagem. Even if the past determined all such planning pointless, the effort to stop the thief could not end. Beyond that, Hiwatari had more reason than anyone to regret the escapes of Dark Kaitou.<p>

"Hey! You can't be over there!"

The shout drew Satoshi from his thoughts and he lifted his eyes to the guard running toward the back of the museum. Another figure, just emerging from the alleyway, pulled up short.

His eyebrow lifted as he recognized the dainty form of his classmate, Risa Harada. Dressed in a dark but pretty outfit, her hair loose about her face, he perceived at once her objective and the probability that she had been thwarted in catching Dark just as he had been. Hiwatari might have considered trying to employ her to slow down the thief, if not for the fact she would laugh in his face, assuming she did not take a more violent route.

Silly girl, thinking she could ever be in love with a phantom.

"What do you think you are doing back here? This is off limits to civilians," the guard announced as he stopped beside the girl. "What is your name?"

"O-oh," Harada-san stammered, unsure, before a startling transformation overtook her countenance. Large tears brimmed in her wide, innocent eyes and she drew her clasped hands to her chest, shrinking down into herself. Even her voice assumed a soft, appealing tone that made her seem some years younger and beguilingly sweet. "I'm sorry... I know that I shouldn't be back here, bu-but I couldn't help it! My kitty, Kutsushita, she jumped out of my arms while I was bringing her back home, and now sh-she's _lost_!"

The pitiful weeping of the girl, perfectly executed so as not to be obnoxiously exaggerated, melted the guard's defenses at once. The duped man patted her awkwardly on the head and lowered his voice as he doubtlessly consoled her.

Nodding pathetically, Harada-san grabbed his sleeve and said tearfully, "I just wanted to make sure she didn't get hurt, with all of the people running around... but... but I'm sure she'll find her way home."

Sympathetically, the guard put an arm around her shoulders and escorted her back to the street as he said, "Cats have a way of taking care of themselves. I'm sure she'll turn up."

"Right," she mumbled, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "I'm... I'm sure you're right."

Turning her face up with a trusting smile, she finished prettily, "Thank you very much for not being mad at me."

"D-don't mention it!" the guard choked, flustered. He cleared his throat and straightened, then waved her on her way, trying to keep an important edge in his voice as he said, "It is dangerous to be out alone at night. Just be sure to get yourself home safely."

"I will!" she beamed, effusing all of her charm into her performance. "Thank you, mister!"

As the girl bounced from the scene of her latest triumph, the guard smirked proudly to himself, painfully oblivious to the fact he had been thoroughly played, and went back to his job. Hiwatari rolled his eyes to the sky, wondering if there was ever a chance for decent help in the world—or at least help that would not be fooled so easily by such as Harada-san.

What an actress.


	59. Bacon

**A/N:** This is not going to make any sort of sense, considering the prompt. Just take my word for it that it works, seeing as it is an inside joke of sorts. I did this because it struck me that it would make an excellent birthday present for my darling Backpack. Happy birthday, Fishie.

**Disclaimer:** If I had selected an animal, it would have been a cat. Evil, sadistic, and thinks way too much of itself.

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><p>Even after the second occurrence of the sound, he could not determine why she uttered such a ridiculous noise. Though it almost sounded like a chair being scraped across the floor by a grunting bird, he assumed it must be a giggle of sorts, though he could not be wholly sure. Considering that it proceeded from Harada-san, who sat by him on the bench with her nose stuck in a book, that answer seemed the most likely.<p>

Still, the laugh sounded wholly unnatural. Maybe she had caught a cold.

"Harada-san?"

She peeked over the edge of her book at him, eyes dancing. As pretty and innocent as they were, he felt an inkling of dread start to form. He should have left well enough alone.

"What is it, Hiwatari-kun?" she prompted, lowering the book to her lap.

"What are you doing?"

Her face brightened at the question. With an inward sigh, he realized the question had been ill phrased—if he had asked if what she read was really that amusing, he could have avoided the forthcoming deluge.

"Oh, it's so, so cute! I've been reading this book since morning and I'm already almost finished. They're just so adorable. See, there's this guy in here, who's totally a workaholic. He's all nice and funny, totally confident—like you, I guess—but he's... well, no, he wouldn't be like you. He acts like he likes people."

He did not blink at the jab, nor the physical one that accompanied it from the spine of the book.

Not at all deterred by his lack of reaction, she plunged on, "And so even though he's so great, he's never really had any interest in getting a girlfriend. Then along comes this girl—"

"A girl. She is not currently here to be seen," he corrected her in monotone. If he had to be subjected to a jarring ramble, at least let it be with proper grammar.

"_A_ girl, then. She met him at random on the street and fell head over heels for him right off, but he's a typical guy, even though he's so nice, and is totally oblivious. Anyway, they kept meeting up—first by chance, see, but then they traded phone numbers and started hanging out more and it's _so_ cute how they're acting around each other. All awkward and cute."

"Yes, you did establish that it was cute," he said, glancing away from her in search of an excuse to end the conversation's present course.

"She was of course hoping to get with him from the start, but he took some time to realize his feelings and now that he's confessed, they're _holding hands_ and blushing and being adorable." The explanation ended in what could only be accurately termed as a triumphant giggle.

"I see," he said, merely as formality. Truth be told, he only saw that there would be some things in life that, no matter how long he studied them, he would never be able to understand. Harada-san's absurd addiction to romances was definitely one such subject.

"It's so cute," she insisted a final time, turning back to read more of her story, a silly grin plastered on her face.

He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and shifted his gaze away.

Perhaps another matter he would never understand was how, despite her inanities and confusing addictions, he could never get enough of her smile.


	60. Rain

**A/N:** This is the darkest I have written yet. No dialogue or interaction, but so much sweetness I think I will be forgiven.

**Disclamier:** If I were in charge, the monster would have more screen time. 'Nuff said.

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><p>Closing the door behind himself, he drew a shuddering breath. The pain pressing in his chest, the rending of claws trying to tear through his body, the suppressed evil waging war against his last ounce of strength, clouded his vision and mind. The school hallway, blessedly empty, swam before his eyes. His hand trembled slightly as he removed the glasses further impeding his view, then slipped them into his shirt pocket.<p>

With slow, cautious steps, he started to walk down the hall. If he could make it outside, into the fresh air, he could handle it. The stagnant air stifled him, further restricting his already painful breathing.

Before he could walk halfway to the door leading to the stairs, the floor began to undulate beneath his feet. He stumbled helplessly into a wall, catching himself on the shallow windowsill, striking his palm painfully against the corner.

Lifting his hand slowly, he watched as red swelled on his stinging skin, then dribbled down, dropping to the tile. As he clenched his hand into a fist, he lifted his eyes to the window and the outside world, so near and so unobtainable. Sakura trees in full bloom swayed gently in the wind, petals falling to coat the ground in their frail hue. How ironic they seemed, as their petals represented drops of blood and still more the transient nature of life. His gaze lowered to his injured palm and the falling of his own lifeblood.

Weakened blood.

He stared at the crimson trails sliding slowly through the lines of his hand as another cold grip squeezed acutely around his heart. Everything grew distorted around him, which clarified the quiet, unshakeable thought of the end. His life was slipping away, faster than he could understand, more painfully than he could bear.

Lifting his eyes again to the merciless outside world and the swirling cherry blossoms, he released a silent sigh. Nothing would last, life or pain. The end was coming.

A motion from the ground below caught his gaze, causing him to lean slightly over to perceive the source. Amid the raining flower petals, a girl spun with arms outstretched, pausing only to jump one way or another in the attempt to catch a falling blossom. A ribbon, holding back her hair from her face, lay crooked on the back of her neck, a collection of limp blossoms pinned in her hair by the bow.

She looked so entirely free and unweighted, nothing but happiness surrounding her as she danced her way through the snow of pink flowers. Even though she was alone, she noticed nothing but the beautiful rain in which she lived.

"Innocence," he murmured, his breath sliding tortuously from his lips. Risa radiated innocence, so near and so unobtainable.

Shakily, he raised his hand and laid it on the glass, as if in a gentle caress of the girl his fingers palm hid from view.

Yanking back his hand, he hissed sharply. A damp stain of red remained behind, obscuring Risa for a moment before she spun out from under it. He curled his hand into a fist again and turned his back on the window.

Sinking down to sit on the floor, his back against the wall, he squeezed his eyes shut and fought to hold back the redoubled effort of the monster inside, the vicious beast that strove to break the bonds keeping him from emerging. White flashed over his vision, white so stark it seared darkness into his very soul.

Risa was innocence and life: what Satoshi was never meant to have.


	61. Battle

**A/N:** My biggest yet and the greatest endeavour to date, I think. This is tied in with last week's update.

**Disclaimer:** You'd think, as I dared to write this piece, but no. I own nothing.

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><p>Irresolute, she stood in front of the school doors, staring at the bright afternoon beyond. She had probably missed him.<p>

Her fingers curled around her books tightly. Why?

Turning her head from the doorway, she let her eyes wander back down the empty hall. Had she said something wrong without knowing it?

With a heavy sigh, she leaned against the wall and let her shoulders slump. Over the last few days, a change had grown more and more apparent. Every time she tried to talk to him, he would refuse to look at her or give more than a monosyllabic reply. Her attempts to make him hang out with her or to talk with her were all instantly and firmly turned down.

"Why?" she mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut. Nothing had changed. Despite her continual effort to discover the problem, she always returned to the conclusion that everything had been fine, they had not argued, and she had not said anything remotely upsetting. So why?

She had tried to get his attention after school ended, but he had left almost at once. When she had run to the doors to catch him, he was nowhere to be found. She had waited. She had waited until every last student left and Riku had gone home ahead of her.

Footsteps, distinctly familiar, startled her from her thoughts. For a heartbeat, hope flared.

Pressing herself off the wall to face the one coming toward her, she smiled in relief for having caught him. Every inch of him was familiar: his shock of sky blue hair, his vivid eyes partially veiled behind large glasses, his careless elegance of movement, his perfect posture and blank expression.

"Hiwatari-kun," she called, hurrying toward him, pressing her books to her chest as if they could tame the nervous pulse that began to flutter in her veins. Though she was glad to meet him alone, if he tried to avoid her now, she did not know what she could do.

"Harada-san," he responded, looking past her to the door without slowing his stride.

She, not allowing herself to be dismayed, planted herself directly in his path. "I need to talk to you."

"Not now," he dismissed her and tried to step around her.

"Yes, now!" she cried, snatching his shirt sleeve. "You've been avoiding me and running from me and I want to know _why_! If it's something I did, I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you."

Though his face did not betray any sign of emotion, his eyes remained locked on the door as if he could will it to come and free him from the situation. "There is no reason for you to feel responsible for anything."

Nerves gave way to frustration and she released his sleeve in disgust. "So you're just going to keep ignoring me, then. Act like we're not friends. Like I don't matter."

At last, his gaze shifted to her and she shrank back, wishing it had not. The glasses he wore did nothing to keep back the painfully piercing, intense stare of those dark blue eyes. He rarely showed anything that went on inside his mind, but when his eyes came alive, she could not stand it. Something in them cut through her and made her feel impossibly small.

"Your worth, Harada-san," he said, quiet and deliberate, "is not something to underestimate. Do not waste it on me."

She gaped as he walked away, as if he could actually leave after saying that.

"Why!"

Before her books had fully dropped from her slackened arms, she allowed the rage rippling inside of her to take over. He was not going to just walk away. Vaulting over the books, she snatched his arm before he could jump away and clutched it in a vice grip.

"Why?" she demanded again viciously, glaring at his vaguely astonished face. "What makes you think that I'm wasting _anything_ on you?"

He took a moment to compose himself, then pulled his arm free. "Harada-san, you misunderstand."

"No, _you_ do!" she shouted, ignoring the echo of her words in the empty building. "If you think that I'm just going to let you pull away and hide in a corner, just because I had let you before, you're wrong! If you think that you can force me to leave you alone, you're wrong—and if you think for one minute that I'm going to stop being your friend, you're plain crazy!"

"Harada-san. Calm down," he said, his jaw tightening as he leveled his hardened eyes on her.

"I'm not going to calm down!" she yelled, stomping her foot. "I'm not going to calm down until you tell me what's wrong and why you're avoiding me!"

"I cannot," he replied simply, then grabbed the door more forcefully than his wont. "There is nothing to tell."

"Liar," she snapped, balling her hands into fists. "You're lying. And I won't leave you alone. I won't let you rest for one moment until you tell me. We're friends, Hiwatari-kun. You're _important_ to me."

"Stop." His voice remained unwaveringly calm and low, but he refused to look at her.

"No! We're friends and I want to help," she said, reaching out to pull his hand from the door.

Her shoulders collided first with the wall, the impact sending a sting of shock over her whole body, then her head bounced slightly against the wall, jarring her further. For a moment, she could not comprehend what had happened, or why his hands were clenched tightly around her arms.

"Stop!" he seethed, his eyes flickering as he glared at her, his face nigh distorted with anger.

Anger and pain.

Only a second passed before he regained some measure of control and then he whispered, grim and low, "Stop. I cannot do this. Not to you."

Forcing her widened eyes to blink, she swallowed the lump in her throat. "Hi-Hiwatari-kun..."

He met her eyes for a moment, then he slowly peeled his hands free of her arms. Realization dawned on him finally and he weakened before her eyes. His tense frame loosened and sagged, then he turned away, passing his hand over his face.

"I apologize."

As if that were enough, he walked with his usual dignity out the door, leaving her to collect her scattered wits. Her heart was pounding, but from fear or surprise she could not tell.

His eyes.

She thought she had seen them open to her before. She had never imagined how much deeper they could possibly go.

"Wh... why?" she whispered, touching her throbbing arm. Why were they so terrible? So frightening, so hurt? What secrets did he keep locked away from the world, from her?

She swallowed, looking at her fallen books.

"Don't," she mumbled, then sucked in a long breath. "Don't go alone."

Before she knew she was moving, she bolted out the door after him. She did not care what secrets he held. All that mattered was that he was not going to face them alone.

"Hiwatari-kun!" she shouted, rapidly gaining on him.

He glanced over his shoulder, a slight frown tugging on his mouth.

With a breathless laugh, she stopped beside him and grabbed his hand. Exultantly, she commanded him before he could pull free, "Walk me home."

His look of absolute mystification was definitely worth any stinging in her arms.

"Harada-san..." he said, brow twitching into a knot, but she waved his refusal off with her free hand.

"Don't worry, Hiwatari-kun," she giggled, bumping into his arm with her shoulder. "No one would blame you. I'm impossible to get rid of."

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes comfortably unreadable.

Quite confident, she allowed a smile to work its way over her mouth.

"Not without your books," he said at last, turning back toward the school and pulling her gently behind him. "It would be idiotic to go without them."

She laughed. The only idiotic thing she could have done was to let him go without her.


	62. Rose

**A/N:** Now to wind off the last two drabbles so that we can go back to random scenes. At least this is the last for November, that topsy-turvy month of NaNoWriMo.

**Disclaimer:** Only the paper. Perhaps I could make a convincing bunny mask out of that, though...

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><p>The mechanical pencil tapped over the open sketchbook, leaving faint marks across the top corner of the page.<p>

Again, her laughter lifted above the voices in the classroom and Satoshi glanced at the cluster of girls. The brightness of her smile remained unabated.

Releasing a quiet sigh, he focused his attention again on the paper before him. How long could he delay the inevitable? Nothing in the room around him—the inanimate or the living—could remain forever. Everything would ultimately come to an end.

Even her laughter would eventually be silent.

The pencil in his hand stilled for a moment as his eyes slipped shut. Though eventually it would end, who was he to hasten the process? She did not understand the danger he posed; how could she possibly guess the secret of his bloodline? With her innocence, it fell upon him to keep her at bay, to protect her from himself.

Another glance in her direction afforded a glimpse of her luminous eyes, so naïve for all their perception, and the subtle curve of a smile that never seemed to abandon her mouth.

He stared at his pencil again, his own mouth pulling into a frown. If it would be the best for her, why then could he not manage to drive her away? How could he dare to consider letting her wade the outer edges of the gathering pool of his inherited misery? The danger manifested by his mere presence never altered, but to increase it, especially for someone like Harada-san, was unthinkable. So why did he shrink from the thought of vanishing from her life—from the life found within her radiant eyes?

Frustrated, he set aside his pencil and tore the speckled sheet from his sketchbook. He knew there was no real question.

He simply did not want to be away from the one, precious person who refused to be shoved aside.

Folding the paper deftly, he spared a quick glance in her direction, then his frown deepened. He could not move away from the Niwa, and a simple change of apartments would not prevent her from locating him again at her whim. Her persistence in following Dark during his raids on the museums made it unlikely to avoid her for long. If he simply disappeared, only to be caught while he vainly attempted to apprehend the Phantom Thief, the ruckus the young Harada would create would be immeasurable. A smirk twitched over his mouth before he returned to frowning. For some reason, he enjoyed that particular thought, even with the likelihood of a ringing headache as consequence.

He smoothed out a few of the creases in the paper, then began to tuck the folds together. For all of Harada-san's cute mannerisms, she knew how to make her opinions heard. Perhaps she could teach him more than simply what it would be like to live; perhaps she could enlighten him on how to capture phantoms. While he had never been able to secure one, she had amply displayed her capacity.

Swiftly clearing off his desk, he looked at her again only to find her gazing at him, her smile spreading as their eyes met. Standing, he bowed his head to her in acknowledgment, waiting for her to turn her attention back to her other friends before he headed for the door. He could afford to miss the last couple classes of the day, if it meant that he could remind himself to take proper care of the light that hovered so near him, so dangerously near. Though only the shadow of a person, he would protect the solitary flower that had captivated his interest so completely.

As he passed by her desk, he let one hand trail along the edge, discreetly leaving the origami rose behind.

Everything would ultimately come to an end, but he still wished to let her understand that he would be forever grateful.


	63. Fork

**A/N:** It's a miracle. Something that's actually like a drabble. I wrote it to find it had two hundred twenty-two words. I felt that was impressive. I found it even more impressive that after I edited, it remained two hundred and twenty-two words. But as I feel that's rather cheating for output, I'll work on the long-awaited independent story I've had waiting for the final edit for... months. Heh, sorry. Maybe I can post it later this week.

**Disclaimer:** While I might procrastinate like Yukiru, honestly, I'm not one and the same.

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><p>"Oh, no."<p>

"What is it?"

Risa slowed to a stop, brow furrowing as she looked down the two diverging roads before answering Hiwatari-kun. "I'm... not sure which way to go."

Walking to the edge of town for the sake of it was one thing; finding one's way back turned out to be quite another. She peered down the two options, in her head trying to reverse the route they had taken earlier, when Hiwatari-kun informed her decidedly, "Left."

"Eh? You remember which way we came?" she asked, relieved to have brought along someone who knew everything.

"No," he confessed without hesitation.

"No?" she echoed, her eyebrows soaring. "Then you know where we are?"

"Not distinctly, no."

She put her hand on her hip, observing him skeptically. "So, what then? You can tell by the way the shadows fall across the street in relation to how they were when we walked by here before?"

"No," he repeated, lifting his eyebrow dubiously at her.

She mirrored his expression. "You have photographic memory?"

"No."

"You have a GPS in your watch?"

"Harada-san," he interrupted her, rolling his eyes.

"What?" she asked, throwing her arms in the air in a dramatic shrug. "How do you know we need to go left?"

Calmly, he pointed down the street and explained, "Your sister is coming to meet us."


	64. Morning

**A/N:** There is no way around this update. While it is not as tangible as some things, Tolkien's world will forever be foremost in my heart in the fiction realm. The fact that The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey comes out in less than a week demanded I do something to recognize the fact. This little bit demanded doing and I could by no means refuse.

**Disclaimer:** Even the wit this time cannot be attributed to myself. Ah well. I will fan in bliss regardless.

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><p>The patter of her feet behind him, unmistakable even through all the other early morning noises of Azumano, broke through his condescending surveillance of the street, alerting him to the oncoming threat of chipper conversation. Unfortunately for her, she had no warning of his disparaging mood.<p>

"Good morning, Hiwatari-kun!" Harada-san exclaimed as she fell into step beside him, holding her books to her chest and grinning at him prettily.

Unaffected by her charming greeting, he gave her one glance, then queried blandly, "What do you mean by that?"

Her smile dissolved into a slight frown of confusion. "Mean...?"

"Do you wish me a good morning," he clarified, looking at the street again instead of indulging in watching her bewildered countenance, "or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"

"Hiwatari-kun," she said with immense solemnity, drawing his gaze back with her unusual tone. "Do you feel all right? You used... five sentences already, right off in the morning."

"A good morning, according to you. Might that have something to do with it?" he ventured wryly and rolled his eyes. "Regardless, I used only two sentences."

"Well, it was like five," she insisted, observing him warily.

He lifted his eyebrow. "Four, actually, and they were decidedly two sentences."

"Why does it matter how many sentences? You used a bunch of words. Smart words, and kind of ridiculously picky words, but that's at least normal."

Smirking at her, he shook his head slightly as he stated, "I thought perhaps you might recognize those words. You will, soon, no doubt."

"Recognize them?" she echoed, confusion increasing. "Have you used them before?"

With a shake of his head, he smirked more as he answered her, "A week, maybe less, then you will have proof enough that I was once a child, too."

"Eeeh?" she cried, eyes widening. "What does this have to do with being a child? Well, except for your being so picky?"

"Harada-san?"

"What?"

"Patience."


	65. Glue

**A/N:** I was recently given the compliment that I could make anything interesting when I write about it, even "picking glue out of a glue cap." I laughed, saying that was stretching the truth a little... then promptly sat down and decided it needed to be written.

**Disclaimer:** Bunny is not in my blood.

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><p>Somehow, being defeated yet again by Dark Kaitou seemed a better fate than the one that Satoshi Hiwatari currently faced, sitting in the Haradas' living room. Dark never was one to be convenient, though, and Satoshi had been left with no excuse to turn down Harada-san's request for his help. Whereas the noise had died down considerably—specifically credited to the elder Harada twin being pulled into a game of Ninja, which relieved the single room of the two, noisome boys—the main source of Satoshi's disquietude remained attached to his back, two small arms locked snugly around his shoulders.<p>

He stared at the penknife and the glue cap, sealed shut by leftover adhesive, and wondered why he had not simply used his overbearing loftiness to simply state that no, he could not help, and no, he would not explain.

Frowning slightly, he resumed trying to scratch an opening for the glue to pour through the cap, admitting to himself that the reason he had not attempted such an evasion was solely because Harada-san would not have given up on pestering him without a solid explanation and he had never managed to learn how to lie.

"Is it being very difficult, Hiwatari-san?"

The sickeningly sweet voice, angled toward his ear, made a small crease form on his forehead. Maybe if he had simply informed Harada-san of his paranoia about being around children—But when she had told him that she was babysitting a few of her cousins for the evening, he assumed "a few" meant a few cousins, not a few cousins and a handful of their friends. Silly of him; Harada-san could by no means turn down such a jovial party of youngsters.

"It is not trying to be difficult," Satoshi answered the girl hanging off of his shoulders, refusing to break from his monotone, "as it has no will of its own."

The girl, whose name he had failed to catch, giggled and settled her chin over his shoulder. "You're so _funny_, Hiwatari-san."

He rolled his eyes slowly, sighing silently and reminding himself that the admirer he had gained merely by entering the house happened to be some six years younger than himself. If only she realized that as well.

Before he could peel any more of the white stuff from the cap, the hope for liberation came flitting toward him in the form of the younger Harada twin.

"Are you almost finished, Hiwatari-kun? Hina-chan wants to glue the glitter on her card," Harada-san explained, bending over to rest her hands on her knees as she peered into the glue cap he held.

"I am somewhat impeded, Harada-san, in my efforts," he replied blandly, letting his eyes flicker toward the curly head balanced on his shoulder, then back at Harada-san. "If you would be so kind as to—"

Cutting him off with a laugh, Harada-san patted his limpet's head affectionately. "I see you've made a friend, Hiwatari-kun. Please take good care of him, Shiori-chan!"

"I will!" the little one chirruped in response, tightening her hold on him. "His hair is so pretty."

"And his _eyes_," Harada-san agreed, a mocking smile lighting on her face, then turned back to look at him. "Just hurry as much as you can—and don't forget to have fun."

"Fun," he echoed as she tripped gaily back to the coffee table and the card in progress. What would be fun would be pelting the glue cap at her head. His predicament was all her fault, anyway.

"Hiwatari-san," Shiori said as she reached for the penknife, "can I help you? I'm sure I'd be very good at it."

"No. The blade is sharp," he responded firmly, stretching out his arm to keep her from taking his tool.

Her argument on that point never came, for Harada-san's shrill cry changed almost at once into outright laughter.

"Never mind, Hiwatari-kun, about the cap. Can you get some paper towels before it—aah, it's running off the table!"

With a sigh, Satoshi freed himself of the clinging child and rose to his feet. Helping Harada-san. Such a pleasant past time.


	66. Needle

**A/N:** Merry Christmas to one and all. May the purpose of this season, the hope that was brought to earth and offered to every one individually bring life abundant to each willing to accept. That being said, here's a holiday-themed tidbit with fluff enough.

**Disclaimer:** If I were the owner, there would be plenty of cute Christmas-themed short stories out there already. Yukiru's missing some fluff and no mistake.

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><p>Though the knock on the door interrupted Satoshi's previewing a lecture on Edo-period artworks found in the region from which the Hikari hailed, he could not say he much minded. Prolix as the professor was on the subject, he seemed to know little and exaggerate much. Still, the less the public knew for certain, the better for the Hikari.<p>

He could not complain about being interrupted, but he had at least expected to open the door on something besides an evergreen. Leaning his shoulder against the door frame, he surveyed the small boughs which quivered with every slight movement she made.

"Hello, Hiwatari-kun!"

"I'm sorry," he said, straightening and grasping the door to shut on the overly-friendly tree and the one bearing it, "but I do not believe I have made your acquaintance, Tree-san. Please excuse me as I get back to work."

"Oh, pssh, Hiwatari-kun! Now is not the time to make fun!" Harada-san scolded him, leaning her head past the branches of the pine she held. "This thing is heavier than it looks."

"That information begs the question as to why you are carrying it," he responded dryly as he surveyed the greenery.

Without waiting for an invitation, she shuffled into the apartment and dumped the tree into his arms. "Because some genius I know didn't offer to carry it for me?"

"How could I," he asked as he turned away from the needles poking his face, "when I did not know you were carrying it?"

"Aren't you telepathic or something?" she countered teasingly and pulled off her shoes. "You certainly didn't offer to take it from me when you saw me with it, though."

"My apologies," he said blandly, slipping into his own shoes so as to take the tree safely away from his house.

Harada-san, sharper than most would assume, snatched the potted evergreen away from him. "Oh, no you don't. I brought it all the way here and I'm not going to have you go hide it somewhere."

Rolling his eyes, he stepped out of his shoes and followed the nigh prancing girl into the living room. Despite her obvious intention of sticking the tree somewhere—likely inconvenient in placement, too, when she finally decided—he queried after a moment, "Harada-san, why did you bring the tree?"

"Because I knew you weren't going to be doing anything for Christmas," she stated simply, trying the plant on the table before whisking it off elsewhere.

Patiently, used to her presumption, he slid his hands into his pockets and questioned further, "So why exactly do I need a tree?"

"Because!" she answered, setting the tree down by the couch and grinning at him. "Do you remember that book we read in English class? The Dr. Seuss one?"

"How the Grinch Stole Christmas," he replied in the affirmative, then freed a hand to lift in a partial shrug. "But the book stated that Christmas could not be stolen, yes?"

"Of course," she said dismissively, patting the tree. "But it also said that the Grinch, who didn't like Christmas, had a heart two times too small."

"And my heart is two sizes too small," he finished, putting his hand back in his pocket.

Her laughter made his eyebrow twitch upward, but she breezed on with her reasoning placidly. "No, you silly. Your heart is probably two sizes bigger than _mine_. No, I meant that your appreciation for tradition and things is two sizes too small. So I'm coming to fix that."

"With a tree?" The words were spoken with apposite dubious sarcasm, entirely disguising the fact that she had yet again baffled him. How could she ever imagine that his heart, the one so many people assumed he did not have, could possibly be greater than her own?

Wholly ignorant of his bewilderment, she answered gaily, "Yes, with a tree. I figured it's a good start, to help you come to like the holiday."

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "And no—I don't want to hear about how you don't have reason to celebrate it. It'll be good for you to practice spontaneity!"

"Hmm," he responded, noncommittal, then nodded. "I see."

Stepping forward quickly, he snatched the girl off of the ground, hefting her easily into his arms even as she shrieked and flailed at the unexpected departure from the ground.

"Hiwatari-kun!" she gasped, squirming as he bore her toward the entryway to throw her out. "Put me down! Put me down right now!"

Ignoring her demands, he kept her firmly in place even as he lowered himself slightly to open the door. Her shrill cry pierced his ears painfully, followed by a sound smack to the back of his head. "My shoes, Hiwatari-kun! Let me put on my shoes!"

"You will actually go?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow as he set her down to put on her shoes.

"Of course I will," she huffed, stepping into her shoes and shaking her head disdainfully, condescending enough even with the pink coating her face. She straightened, then shot him a cheeky grin. "I have to get the lights and ornaments from home still."

Narrowing his eyes at her, he shook his head slightly. How could she be so utterly ridiculous?

He had reason to celebrate. For once in his life, he had someone to celebrate with—someone to celebrate.


	67. Change

**A/N:** This is a good deal different from the other stories, considering it is not with the two feeling very chummy. In fact, they are not officially friends at all in this piece, since I decided that I would do a manga tie-in. This starts a little before Volume 9, Chapter 37, Stage 3: Part 3.

**Disclaimer:** Only borrowing a small space of the manga-ka's timeline, wondering if such thoughts passed through Harada-imouto's mind.

* * *

><p>If she had been told by one of her schoolmates, she would have brushed it aside as a silly rumour caused by an easily explained absence of the blue-haired wonder—easily explained and only temporary. However, the news that Satoshi Hiwatari would, due to undisclosed family matters, no longer be attending Azumano Junior High had been delivered by their teacher at the beginning of class.<p>

Tapping her eraser on the desk, Risa lowered her chin onto the heel of her palm and stared at the blackboard. She refused to look over her shoulder—in the middle of class, no less—at the empty desk in the rear of the classroom. His presence never affected her much; chance threw them together more often than she would have chosen, but he really was reliable and levelheaded and, as a rule, very polite, until he opened his mouth and spoke to her. Perhaps his greatest charm lay in the fact that he did not speak often.

A wry grin tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she smoothed it away in the attempt to appear as if she really was focusing on the lecture. Maybe she could actually focus, if his absence did not unnerve her so. The classroom would feel his absence—and not merely from all of the whispers and giggles from his fans. Something about him spoke of such surety and consistency, and the idea of his simply disappearing, never to be seen again, struck her as a true disappointment.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she reminded herself of the warning notice she had painstakingly crafted the night before Hiwatari-kun had decided to steal all the school's attention by pulling a vanishing act. She had to deliver the note to force Dark to come out; she had so much to say to him and now that Hiwatari-kun had unsettled her equilibrium and faith in the certainty of her quotidian life, she needed to assure herself of Dark understanding how she felt, to know whether or not he would give her a chance.

Her thoughts, as they wandered over the pleasantly vague ideas of how her meeting with the Phantom Thief would go, somehow found themselves winding back up in the classroom, wondering if some new student would transfer into her class and take Hiwatari-kun's desk. She sat upright, dropping her hand back to her desk, and shuddered slightly in revulsion. Who would dare try to take the place of someone like Satoshi Hiwatari? Even if at times he could be frustrating, his shoes were incredibly large to fill.

Settling back into her chair and again refraining from looking back at the empty desk, she wondered how someone so reserved and quiet could manage to leave such a large impression. Maybe the fact that he was so unfailingly mysterious helped.

No matter what the reason, she did not appreciate the alteration to the classroom; not that she would admit as much out loud, for fear of someone getting the wrong idea. She was solely interested in Dark Kaitou—but Satoshi Hiwatari was a part of her life, too. She could not work up the indifference to say she did not mind he left.


	68. Glove

**A/N:** This is a fairly old jot, but I'm still enamoured of the idea, so I am particularly fond of this one.

**Spoiler:** This deals with the happenings in the absolute last chapters Yukiru-sensei has published. Not too much is mentioned, but I will take for granted that you know exactly what happened to poor Hiwatari-kun.

**Disclaimer:** Even the inspiration and drive of this is rooted firmly in another's works.

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><p>"How about for five minutes?"<p>

"No."

"Then how about I wear one and you wear the other?"

"No."

She huffed out a swirling mist of breath. "Hiwatari-kun, don't be so impossible. I'm _cold_!"

"You knew it was cold outside. It is not my fault you neglected to bring the proper attire," he refuted blandly, only to have her jut her lip out at him.

"You're heartless sometimes, Hiwatari-kun," she whined, sticking her chilled fingers under her arms in an attempt to warm them only to yank them away from the cold exterior of her coat. "I just forgot to grab my mittens, is all. And now my hands are freeeeeezzzzzzinnnng."

As she stretched out the word, she waved her whitened fingers in front of his glasses. "Take pity, Hiwatari-kun!"

He lifted his hand to knock her fingers from his face, but his effort betrayed him. With a triumphant laugh, she snatched his glove and, in the twinkling of an eye, secured it over her left hand.

"Oh, it's so warm!" she ejaculated, giddily springing away from him to avoid his retrieval of his stolen property.

"Harada-san, give me the glove," he insisted, holding out his uncovered hand to her as she again bounced out of his reach.

She opened her mouth, but her cheerful denial never came; instead, a deep frown etched itself over her face and she grabbed his hand, squinting at his palm. "Hiwatari-kun, where did you get that scar? It must have been a nasty cut..."

His fingers curled instinctively back over his palm and he shrugged a shoulder, turning his eyes away from the hand marred yet by a faint line gained from Kei Hiwatari's ruthless attempt to finish Dark once and for all.

"Well? How did you get it?" she prompted, lifting her gaze to his face.

He met her innocent, concerned eyes for a moment, knowing full well that he could not satisfactorily explain the source of the scar to her. An inkling of a desire to tell her regardless tugged at the back of his mind, but he shoved it aside and pulled his hand free.

"I got it," he stated in perfect monotone, "from fending off people who try to steal my gloves."

Groaning at his blatant refusal to enlighten her, she swatted his arm in recompense. She crossed her arms moodily, surveying him with a disparaging glance. "Why won't you tell me anything?"

"I tell you many things—such as you should have brought your own mittens," he dryly informed her, reaching for his errant glove again.

Swinging her hand out of the way, she replied with a moue, "Telling me things I already know doesn't count!"

"So there are rules?" he asked, giving up his glove for lost in the hope that her attention would continue to wander away from his scarred hand.

"Of course there are rules. Like the rule that says I'm a lady, so I get one of your gloves, since you will of course be a gentleman," she sniffed, still eying him warily in case he chose to spring after the glove despite the rules.

"I did not think ladies would stoop to being thieves," he ventured, but she waved him off.

"Oh, we don't stoop. Sometimes, though, we must take matters into our own hands."

"And off the hands of gentlemen's."

Her shocked face was most comical. "Of course. How else is anything supposed to get done?"

A quiet, short laugh broke from his lips and she blinked in amazement before announcing the obvious. "You laughed!"

"Did I?" he asked, smirking at her bewilderment.

After her eyes shrank enough to look like they stood a chance of remaining within her head, she piped up, "If that's what happens when I steal _one_ glove, what'll happen if I steal the other?" She gasped loudly. "Would you _giggle_?"

His smirk vanished instantly as he hid his annoyance behind his impeccably blank countenance. "Idiot."

Assuming the responsibility of giggling, she stepped in front of him and proclaimed, "Oops, killed the mood!"

Before he could turn his attention from her comment to her actions, she tore his other glove from his hand and bolted away from him, struggling valiantly through the snow in her heavy and newly-complete winter attire.

With a small sigh, he rolled his eyes to the sky before he darted after her. What was it with thieves always taking his things?


	69. Cupcake

**A/N:** This was a close call. Squeezing it in right at the end of the day. I beg pardon, if any outlandish mistakes have slipped through the cracks. Due to ever so many disgruntling issues, my beta and I barely managed to squeeze this out in time. In fact, this was written only this afternoon, because "Eschatology" proved too much for this week's update and I needed something else that would be an easy fix. So, next week there will be a (somewhat) anticipated appearance of a guest star's POV. For now, though, a bit of sweet fun. Why had I dreaded writing for this prompt? So obvious and so fun.

**Disclaimer:** Only the frosting, my pretties, only the frosting.

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><p>"For you!"<p>

Slowly, Hiwatari-kun lifted his eyes from the fluttering page of his book, not overly eager to see what fate Harada-san had decided she must force upon him. She stood, grinning broadly, in front of the bench where he sat, her right hand extended to him and bearing what looked suspiciously like blue frosting with a little bit of cake beneath, her other hand holding a matching, though pink, treat.

"Go on," she prompted, her smile unabated. "Take it. I bought it for you."

Of course. Use the leverage of her spending money in attempt to guilt him into taking the hideously sugary item.

"I am not hungry," he said, ignoring any twinge of guilt with ease. Some things he would do for the silly girl, but to infuse himself with a prodigious amount of fake sugar and artificial flavours—only because the blue made her think of him and thus required him to eat it—did not fall into the category of what she could convince him to do.

"But Hiwatari-kun," she said, a dangerous hint of wheedling entering her tone, "I got it just for you. Look, it's blue! That's a _boy_ colour _and_ it matches your hair."

"I have always wanted to have a cake that matched my hair," he responded dryly, refusing to let his gaze rest on the face which surely would have changed in expression to match the coaxing essence of her voice.

"Hiwatari-kun," she reprimanded patiently, assuming the tone of a mother condescending to her child. "You don't even have to eat the whole cupcake. Just try a bite. It'll be good for you."

Lifting an eyebrow at her assessment of the thing's nutritional value, he turned the page, though not fully finished, to prove he had no further interest in her arguments.

"Don't ignore me, Hiwatari-kun," she threatened and took a step nearer to him.

"I am not ignoring you," he replied in monotone. "I simply am not going to eat the cake."

"No?"

"No."

"You're positive."

"Beyond the shadow of a doubt."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Before he could quite process why she would need to be sorry, she smashed the cupcake into his face, getting some of the icing up his nose as she slathered it over his mouth and then the rest of his face despite his attempts to lash away from the offending hand.

"There!" she laughed with paramount glee, stepping back and shaking off the bread remaining on her palm. "It _does_ match your hair!"

In silence, he removed his soiled glasses, then carefully dusted off the crumbs that had landed on his book. Her hilarity increased at his subdued response, causing her to nearly drop the remaining cupcake. He turned his eyes to her slowly, then asked blankly, "I am pleased you find such amusement in this."

Forcing herself to catch her breath, she answered him as coherently as she could, "I'm sorry, Hiwatari-kun, but it _is_ funny."

"I can see that," he said, his voice still blank.

She let out a long, contented sigh, then nodded to herself. "That was oddly refreshing."

"Oh?" he hummed idly, setting aside his book, and before she could confirm her statement, he lunged forward.

Though she yelped when he snatched the pink confection out of her hand, she had no more time to react than that before she discovered exactly how funny having cupcake smeared over one's face could be.

Stumbling back a few steps, she huffed a few disgusted noises as she tried to wipe the pink goop from her face, then turned her flaming eyes to him. "_Hiwatari-kun_!"

Unmoved by her harsh tone, he nodded slightly, agreeing, "You are right. Most refreshing."

She stared at him for a few seconds, mouth quivering, then threw her head back and laughed again, as loud and merry as before.

With a small twitch of a smile, he dusted off his hands as he watched her mirth. The pink covering her face certainly did nothing to detract from her beauty.


	70. Eschatology

**A/N:** Here is the prompt I had dreaded and now cherish. "Eschatology" is a word used in theology, so I figured it would be next to impossible to employ well here. I overlooked the fact, though, that the word also deals with something that is of great concern to several people in D. . Perhaps I cheated, but it alludes to what lies behind eschatology, at the very least.

**Disclaimer:** I dare not presume to own anyone, but it has been far too long since I dabbled into the mind of the person who is guest starring in this story. Silly me. I should know better than to not check up on him frequently.

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><p>Through the lens of blue eyes, he saw her cheerful smiles echoed in her beguiling brown orbs, looking in his direction as if she could peer right through the one that stood between them. A curl of a smile without emotion touched his own mouth as he surveyed the pitiable, imprudent girl. Did she ever cease to be so entirely sure of herself to realize that the boy she thought simply her classmate and, fates forbid, her friend, contained a dark and deadly secret?<p>

Not merely deadly to himself, as without a doubt and without trying Krad could overpower the frail body of the Hikari boy, but also as a threat to herself. Her frequent laughter and the carefree nature in which she bore herself grated painfully on reality; he wanted to blot her out, end the foolishness she portrayed, but he had greater concerns than a mere child.

Or perhaps he did not.

The mere child, with her witless behaviour and schemes, induced abeyance in his plans without the slightest realization. The first few times she stood out in the boy's life had made little impression upon Krad—mere noisome interruptions, no more. Even her falling into the trap in the museum, causing the boy to tumble in after her while trying to save her, allowing both the Sunlight Mask and the Phantom to vanish without a trace, did not stand out to him as more than a nuisance best left unheeded. Only when she distracted the boy on the roof, when Dark Wing dove after the older twin, when the thief could have so easily been brought to task, had Krad at last discerned the portent of the girl.

"Hiwatari-kun, don't be ridiculous!"

The buoyantly delivered instruction snapped him back to the present as the reverberations it created in his host interrupted the concentration of his reflections. Narrowing his eyes, he studied the visage of the girl. How many people before had tried to tap into the boy's psychology and failed? Now this creature, with her pretty brown eyes and winsome smiles and childlike mannerisms, not only unsettled the iron control of his thoughts and purpose, but also took the emotions introduced by the halfwit Niwa and tried to increase their frequency and strength.

"Ridiculous?" The voice echoed in Krad's ears, the undercurrent of actual amusement almost imperceptible, but certain and consistent. "Harada-san, I believe you have the two of us confused."

Frowning slightly, Krad examined the expressive countenance of the girl as she argued futilely against the accusation. When first the problem she presented had surfaced, Krad had thought he could employ the feelings of the boy to his own purposes. What could be better than a reactive host? The check on any form of passion that the Hikari had obtained frustrated so many chances to obliterate the caustic presence of the Phantom Thief. What if the girl freed at last the rush of feeling that only a Sacred Maiden could achieve? Certainly Krad could manipulate the response to actuate his interests.

Those fine fancies had dissolved in light of his stubborn host. Despite the absolutely absurd and contemptible nature of the girl and the fact that she could be used as unfailing leverage against the miscreant thief, the Hikari boy unfailingly proved himself the one, true fool of the situation. Though her outrageous view of life, hope, and feeling impelled the boy to be near her, she had liberated something previously unknown to him, worse than anything that could be instilled in his mind in regard to himself. Every time he neared her, spoke to her, thought of her—no matter how small or slight—a gentleness arose in him to meet her, a desire not only to protect and shield her, but to absorb everything she had to offer him without harming her in any way.

Like a moth to the light, the fool skirted her luminous presence in an impulsive, hopeless effort to grasp the essence she radiated. She stirred up a thirst in him beyond simply what he could have for himself: he wished for her light to continue without him. The treacherous impact of that wish meant that the honest, loyal boy would never allow her to come into his curse. Krad could not even use her as a method to extend the line of the Hikari, because even if at last the boy gave in to the immutable, persistent draw of her spirit and yielded to falling in love with her, that love would keep him from daring to risk her happiness and independence from his darkness, his curse.

Again the frown pulled down at his mouth as he watched the girl's vivacious countenance. If only he could blot out the troublesome child and prey upon the despair of his host. Would that something so simple and pleasurable could help his efforts. Did she have any insurmountable importance in the fate of them all, that she should be so untouchable? Already she had entangled herself in the lives of the Niwa and the Hikari; Dark Wing, too, had slipped under the farcical charm of the girl; and Krad's own problems with her engaged her undeniably in the present struggle. What possible service could she render him, instead of threatening all he worked so ceaselessly to accomplish?

All she presented to him was death.

Death, but to whom?

That question, hinged with such maddening uncertainty, haunted him incessantly.

"What are you doing?" Though conveyed only in thought, the words snaked around him with acidic distrust.

Smoothing his expression into a soft smile, he left his ruminations for a later time, undisturbed and unregarded. Though they could never speak face to face, the link of the shared body connected their minds so that he could bow to the boy as he replied, silk in the tone of his voiceless words, "I awoke and thought I would observe your struggles."

"My struggles do not concern you," Satoshi replied, his jaw tightening as he turned away from the girl and retreated to his desk.

"Your pain is my pain, Satoshi-sama," Krad murmured, mimicking the gentleness of tone that his host so often used when he spoke to the vile girl.

"Enough. She has nothing to do with you."

The smile vanished from his mouth; the failure could not be repeated, letting the way he regarded Risa Harada be so clearly sensed by his host, or he risked the boy growing still more unrelenting in his hostility. With a small sigh, he responded to the bitter words quietly in hope of pacifying the boy. "You do not need to be defensive. I am not here to cause you grief. You alone mean everything to me."

As silence met his words, he ventured carefully, "She _will_ be hurt, you are well aware, if you keep growing close to her as you are."

"Little that would matter to you." Sharp as the words came across, the undercurrent of hesitancy did not escape Krad's attention. So the boy did fear the pain he would cause her—he knew that he meant something to her.

"You know what is destined for you," Krad said, seizing the chance presented, his voice almost a purr, seductively chilling. "How soon, all too soon, it will be over."

"I know." His voice had returned to blank monotone.

Desperate to keep the fear and uncertainty in his grasp, Krad pushed on, suggesting with gentleness, "You know it does not have to be. I could save you from it, Satoshi-sama. Together, there would be—"

Distinct and firm, Satoshi cut off any further attempt. "No. You will never have my body, regardless of what it will cost me. While I have a breath left in me, while I have strength to move a finger, you will not have this body."

Always the same. Always so resolute. Why did that never shake, even when his heart stirred with longing in him?

Coldly, Krad turned away, retreating to the corner where he brooded so constantly beyond the notice of the fool, stating as he withdrew, "Then your fate is unaltered."

"Yes." The boy lifted his eyes to the girl again, allowing a final glimpse of her bright, innocent face, intent then as she listened to her sister speak, before he looked down at his desk. "Yes, my fate is unaltered."

Removing a book from his bag, he said softly, "Death."


	71. Cardboard Box

**A/N:** Again, I postpone posting a more serious update for an on-the-fly story that was _supposed_ to be a drabble. The idea was so small in my head. But then I discovered, as Satoshi is wont to, that Risa doesn't like to shut up. Next week, though, I ought to have a story that reflects on Eschatology. No Krad, though. Shame.

**Disclaimer:** My rights to these characters are like the mouse.

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><p>Brow furrowed, he weighed the sealed box in his hand as he returned to the living room.<p>

"Who was at the door, Hiwatari-kun?" Harada-san asked, looking up from the textbook sitting on her lap.

"No one was there," he responded, resuming his seat beside her on the couch and setting the package on his own lap.

She leaned forward to examine the parcel, intrigued. "They just left the box and ran?"

"So it would seem."

"Who do you think it was?" she asked after failing to locate any marking on the cardboard by which to satisfy her curiosity.

"I would assume it was you, were it not that I doubt your willingness to climb through a window to do it as much as I doubt your ability to move so quickly without showing signs of exertion."

Snorting delicately, she pulled the box out of his hands and over to rest on her textbook, more than willing to be thoroughly distracted from her studying. "Maybe it's from a secret admirer of yours."

He hummed in the back of his throat, not daring to risk contending with such a sentimental option in the face of the school's most dedicated romantic.

"Or maybe it's a prank," she said, shoving the box back onto his knees. "Are you going to open it?"

"What else would I do with it?" he asked, slipping his thumb underneath the edge of the tape. "Set it on the windowsill for decoration?"

Ignoring his retort, she gave a small gasp and leaned forward, snatching his hand away from the box as she demanded, "What if there's something alive in there? Like a mouse!"

His eyebrow rose as he regarded her incredulously, repeating, "A mouse?"

"What if it's a _dead _mouse?" she queried in dismay, then scooted away from him and his mysterious package in horror of the speculation.

"Harada-san," he sighed patiently, shoving his glasses up against the bridge of his nose, "why would anyone send me a mouse, living or dead?"

"As a joke!" she said, then scowled viciously. "That wouldn't be funny at all."

With another sigh, he lifted the box. "Do you want me to open it or not?"

She lifted her textbook and hid her face behind it, only allowing her eyes to peep over the edge. "Don't."

"Very well," he acquiesced, rising so as to throw the box away.

A squeak which certainly did not come from the hypothetical mouse interrupted him, then Harada-san grabbed his arm and pulled him back down to sit, scolding, "Where do you think you're going?"

"To throw the box away," he explained, lifting his eyebrow quizzically at her.

"You can't throw it away!" she blurted, eyes wide. "Don't you want to know what's inside?"

As he felt that "not particularly" would not alter the result of the situation, he took hold of the tape again and confirmed, "I should open it, then?"

"Yes," she conceded, though she inched further away from him again. "I'm curious."

Yes, she most certainly was, along with a good many other things. A twitch of a smirk quirked one corner of his mouth as he peeled back the tape, then he spared a glance to the girl trying to peer at the package from a safe distance.

When she noticed his look, she swatted his arm and ordered with a whisper, "Open it."

Obliging, he flipped open the lid and looked inside, then rolled his eyes, an action which prompted her to sit forward at once to see what lay inside.

"A book?" she mumbled, her forehead knotting as she grabbed the sole object in the box. "A library book, too. Who would give that to... Does it have a fine and they want you to pay it or something?"

"Not yet," he said, taking the book from the girl and opening it to his bookmark. "I misplaced it at your house when I visited last week. I assume your sister returned it and thought to amuse herself at your expense."

"My expense?" Harada-san echoed in bewilderment, glancing up at him.

"Yes. A dead mouse, remember?"

"Oh," she said, pausing a moment before sniffing loftily. "Well, I was just being prepared."

"Ah, I see," he responded, then turned his pensive gaze to the ceiling. "I wonder how Niwa will react when I tell him that you suppose your sister to be a secret admirer of mine."

Bursting into a peal of laughter, she dropped the book back into the box and crumpled over her knees. "Riku...! Riku—a secret admirer of _yours_!"

"I am glad to know you think so highly of me," he replied dryly, setting aside box and book alike before rescuing her poor textbook from further mutilation caused by her mirthful flailing.

"It's not th-that I d—" she began, trying to breathe as much as speak coherently. "But Ri—haa, Hiwatari-kun! You two wou—tee hee!"

Dropping over onto the arm of the couch, she giggled as she surveyed him. "You and Riku. She'd hate how reserved you are. She needs somebody sweet and open like Niwa-kun."

"They work well together," he agreed, smoothing out the creased pages of her schoolbook.

"Uh-huh," she agreed, folding her hands over her stomach and sighing happily. "So don't you go trying to steal her away from him. I won't have it."

"I have no intention of stealing anyone or anything," he told her, closing her book decidedly.

With a broad grin, she pushed herself upright. "You might, though, Hiwatari-kun. You really might."

"Hmm?"

Snagging her textbook, she shook her head. "You do everything effortlessly, so you probably won't have to try."

"Try...?" he echoed, brow furrowing as he vainly struggled to follow her logic.

With a fond pat to his arm, she explained gravely, "You'll understand when you're older."


	72. Husky

**A/N:** I had to procrastinate yet again. I discovered the pathos of the character I wish to depict are much more complex than I had time to sort through for this week. Long week. Too much to do. So, again, a diversion. Look! Doggy! And to think I didn't want to do this prompt. Silly me. As my accomplished beta pointed out, direct insulting is involved! What's more fun than that?

**Disclaimer:** I think you can discover what is mine of this with a little bit of logic. Right? Right.

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><p>Risa snatched her friend's shirt sleeve and shook his arm in her excitement. "Look at the dog, Hiwatari-kun!"<p>

He looked up from his weighty contemplation of the sidewalk and let his gaze rove the passersby before he remarked casually, "I do not see Dark anywhere. Are you positive you saw him?"

"Hiwatari-kun!" she exclaimed, trading her grasp on his sleeve for a solid smack on his arm. "That is not what I meant and you know it. I meant the _dog_. The animal—the puppy dog, right there!"

Determined to forget his jab at her beloved Dark-san, she pointed impatiently at the black and white husky that sat obediently at the feet of a woman who stood at the street corner, loosely holding her pet's leash.

"The creature looks well advanced in years," Hiwatari-kun observed with a wry quirk of his mouth. "I highly doubt the term 'puppy dog' appli—"

Deadpan, she interrupted his correction. "Hiwatari-kun, the dog is not going to care if I use the proper terminology. You _could_ let it go."

"That, Harada-san, takes away the fun," he explained, a trace of the smirk still lingering on his face.

Refusing to give in to the taunt, she returned her attention to the husky. "Let's go pet the dog."

"No, thank you," he refused, sliding his hands into his pockets to demonstrate his intention. "I am quite content to let it alone."

"Fine," she huffed, turning her nose up at him. "I'll pet it by myself."

As he offered no retraction of his statement, she bounced away from his side to approach the woman and dog. Assuming her cutest, most irrefutable smile, she pressed her hands together imploringly as she caught the woman's eye. With a schooled tilt of her head, she looked up hopefully at the owner and requested in a polite, childlike voice, "May I please pet your doggy, ma'am?"

She could all but feel Hiwatari-kun rolling his eyes behind her at her choice of babytalk, but she did not much care for his opinion as she received the permission she desired. Quickly pulling her skirt against her legs, she squatted beside the dog and then extended her hands to stroke its fur.

"Hello, pretty thing," she said, rubbing her hands over the soft ears of the animal as it nosed her shoulder, its tail drumming the sidewalk. "Aren't you just the sweetest?"

"That is a compliment, coming from you."

Wide-eyed, she snapped her head around to look at Hiwatari-kun, only to receive a face-full of blue hair as he had bent over her shoulder to look at the dog.

To avoid letting her embarrassment over his compliment show, she turned back to the dog with a laugh. "That's n—oh! Look, Hiwatari-kun!" Her discomfort chased entirely from her mind, she cupped her hands around the dog's head to turn it toward her friend. "He has one blue eye and one gold!"

Clearly not as amazed as she, Hiwatari-kun stared blankly at the dog's eyes. "Hmm..."

"And the blue eye is almost the same colour as your hair," she pointed out, happily stroking the fur on the top of the dog's head, only to stiffen as a flash of a memory seared across her mind, stilling her hand.

_Golden eyes._

"Harada-san?"

His voice jolted her from her reminiscence and she took a moment to compose herself before she could flash a careless smile at him.

"It's nothing," she said in answer to his unspoken question. "I was just thinking about his eyes."

"And...?" he pressed and, though patient, lifted an eyebrow skeptically at her.

Still smiling, she lowered her face to rest her cheek against the dog's head. "Blue for Hiwatari-kun and gold for my guardian angel."

He straightened at that and squared his shoulders, startling her somewhat with his abruptness.

Blinking at him, she lifted her head, querying worriedly, "Hiwatari-kun?"

After a moment of impassively staring at the sky, he smirked down at her, cocking his head to the side. "Guardians are not always angels."

"True," she agreed without hesitation, resuming her petting of the dog. "But sometimes you find angels where you didn't expect to find them, too."

"I think you are forgetting the literal defin—"

"Hiwatari-kun, what did I say about terminology?"

"You are right; I apologize. The dog does not care."

"_Hiwatari-kun_."


	73. Interloper

**A/N:** The pathos required much attention and thanks to not having complete focus because of the POV, I ended up getting it late to my beta and only did one run-through with her. I am in a panic, posting without her assent. Can this truly be done? Ah well. If I make a fool of myself, I do. I shall edit again tomorrow, like enough. It's already almost midnight.

**Special Note:** This takes place at the same time as Eschatology, which is chapter 70.

**Disclaimer:** Time to try the story from a new set of eyes, but still, they are not mine to claim. Definitely not. I don't want the pervert to be my fault.

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><p>No one on earth can be eternally perfect; not even a Phantom Thief.<p>

While that truth could not be altered, Dark preferred to keep his less-than-perfect moments to himself. Sharing a body with Daisuke Niwa made such a thing incredibly complicated—but even when falling short of perfection, Dark liked to make a habit of rising to the challenge.

At the moment, Dark found the challenge to be considerably lacking in difficulty, as Daisuke remained thoroughly distracted with staring like a lovesick fool at his girlfriend, Riku Harada. In absence of the usual challenge, Dark found himself doubly fortunate. Firstly, he could think and observe without Daisuke being aware; and secondly, Daisuke's focus on Riku allowed Dark the ability to monitor a scene unfolding in the boy's peripheral vision.

Being able to secretly watch over the Sacred Maidens he encountered, from the very first to his present princess, remained a perk of living inside another person's body. However, being forced only to watch as certain upstarts tried to get friendly with said Sacred Maidens helped (only on occasion, of course) Dark to experience episodes of imperfection. Even through the countless times that his Maidens were lost to him, they had been his and thus their memories were his to keep. While no woman could ever keep the Phantom Thief, he kept their memories, the strands of time shared, enshrined in his heart through all the long, solitary years of his life.

Be that as it may, some things should never come to pass.

For example, the one Sacred Maiden who saw fit to look beyond his host and through his own suavity straight to his need should not have Hiwatari, of all people, getting friendly with her.

"Get away from my princess, you stupid iceberg," Dark grumbled to himself, sulkily watching the flippant way Hiwatari treated all of Risa's adorable smiles and manners. Did the fool not realize the surest way to tempt a woman is to ignore her?

Managing not to stir restlessly and thus gain Daisuke's attention, he concluded his vexed, private commentary, "You won't take her away from me."

Risa's cuteness could not wholly evade even Hiwatari's notice, despite the fact that she wasted most of her smiles upon his royal iciness. If the Hikari had any sort of sense, he would be bowing over her every whim since she condescended to pay attention to him. Though that very well could be his game: refusing to give her what her adorableness demanded so that she would feel it necessary to crack his reserves. The sneak.

"Hiwatari-kun, don't be ridiculous!"

Dark snorted to himself at her words, then shook his head. Hiwatari could hardly help being that, considering he was so retarded in the way of social interaction. Crafty, maybe, but still retarded. Without a doubt, Risa picked the most hopeless case in the whole school. Which in the end might be another ploy of his. He must enjoy all the attention.

"Ridiculous? Harada-san, I believe you have the two of us confused."

Restraining himself from jumping forward to shake Daisuke into consciousness of the injustice currently being carryied out in the classroom, Dark glared daggers at the blue-haired idiot who, even as his retort made her laugh, remained annoyingly stolid. Her rebuttal, accompanied by a brilliant smile, also proved ineffectual in cracking the stoic male. Dark found himself at a loss in determining whether or not the deadpan was Hiwatari's method of flirting.

As much as Dark groused and sulked, though, he knew that he truly had nothing to worry about in regard to Hiwatari making advances on Risa. While Hiwatari housed such a ruthless entity in his body, he would never attempt stealing her affections—attempt and attempt alone, considering the Hikari always lost to the Phantom Thieves and never took anything back.

Despite Hiwatari being a complete prig, he would never drag someone else into the curse. At least he remained honest with himself about his condition—something that Dark, perhaps, begrudgingly admired. Hiwatari was supposed to be a normal human: a boy, able to make plans and grow into manhood and have freedom. Those things never meant anything to him, cursed as he was.

"And I am your curse," Dark murmured to himself, alone in the corner of another boy's mind. Everyone who knew of Krad feared and hated him, but at least Krad lived in honesty, striving openly for his hopes. Only the most secret recesses of Dark's heart admitted to his own aims.

In the end, Dark could only take. Take—things and hearts and life—to sustain his own rampant being. The life that Hiwatari's ancestor thought he could give was in actuality a counterfeit, absorbing the life around it to sustain itself. Dark absorbed from the Niwa, Krad from the Hikari, but even then they were not satisfied—even when they endangered those who possessed independent lives, when they drained a child of humanity and rendered him a monster in his own eyes.

Perhaps Risa represented the single thread of humanity left in Hiwatari. Stripped of his innocence, he might have come to rely Risa, the only true innocent who ever bothered to give him a glimpse of normal life. He indulged in her, his one allowance of normality and hope, before his life was taken away.

"To me," Dark mumbled, absorbing her happy countenance, "she is precious because she chose me ahead of all others and accepted even my deficiencies. She wasn't swayed by the fact that I am darkness. How could I resist that?" He stared at the two a moment, before murmuring softly, "So what about you, Hiwatari? What is she offering you? Life? Happiness? Reprieve? Love?"

A small frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. Maybe he and Hiwatari shared more in common than the chains that bound them to the past. They crumbled alike before her open heart, trusting her despite the darkness they possessed. Though neither could afford to let her, she had captured both of them regardless: the one who could never be caught and the one who could never catch.

"She's mine," Dark said firmly, only to accidentally gain the attention of Daisuke.

Shaken from his focus on Riku, Daisuke pulled back into his mind to ask without voicing his question, "Eeh? What was that, Dark?"

"Nothing," Dark snapped, peeved to have ruined his solitude by alerting his host, who could have easily missed a stampede of elephants while watching Riku. Such an insult to a Phantom Thief's stealth ability.

"Why are you so mad?" Daisuke queried with a nervous chuckle, clearly intent on smoothing over whatever had ruffled Dark's feathers. Why did the boy have to be so stubbornly nice?

Blurting the first distraction to come to mind, Dark growled, "He called her 'ridiculous'."

"Who called who...?" Daisuke asked, dense as per the usual.

"Hiwatari! Hiwatari called Risa ridiculous!" Dark shouted, throwing a hand above his head in frustration. "Doesn't he know gentlemen don't talk like that? He'll never win her over that way!"

Attempting to sound placating, Daisuke chuckled again. "I don't think he's trying to win her over, Dark."

"Maybe not," Dark agreed, crossing his arms and sinking back into the corner of Daisuke's mind, "but that's still not how gentlemen behave."

"How would _you_ know how gentlemen behave?" Daisuke asked, the annoying chuckle in his tone replaced by sarcasm.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Dark exclaimed, enraged at the jab. "Quit the Hiwatari impression, would ya? I will have you know that I know _exactly _how a gentleman behaves."

Unconvinced, Daisuke nodded. "Right. If you can impersonate a princess, you can impersonate a gentleman."

"That does it!" Dark snapped, storming off to the remotest portion of Daisuke's mind, the closest he could come to hiding and sulking. Daisuke, used to the cold shoulder in such situations, only laughed and resumed his observation of Riku.

Dark's anger quickly drained away, as most of it had been feigned to throw Daisuke's sensitive nature for a loop. Dark did not want a conversation or commiseration—only to be left with the rumination of his Sacred Maiden and her relationship with his foremost enemy. How long could she be so close to him without at least contemplating affection for him?

No.

No, he would not let Hiwatari take her. Dark took what belonged to the Hikari; the Hikari never took anything that belonged to him.

As if that fate had been heard and accepted, Hiwatari inclined his head toward Risa in a slight bow, then withdrew almost in haste to his desk.

Dark's sense of victory ended abruptly when he saw the pensive, nearly concerned expression that wafted over Risa's face. For a moment, she stared after Hiwatari, the smile in her eyes lost to quiet concern, then she took her own seat in silence.

Trying to gain some form of intelligence as to the cause of her distress, Dark turned his full attention toward the section of the room where Hiwatari sat. Had Hiwatari said something to her? Had she merely caught some trace of the pain he harboured? Surely he could not keep it hidden from her at all times. Her perception knew no bounds.

"Death."

Though only a breath, the word still reached the keen ears of Daisuke, and though the boy, intent on Riku, entirely missed the information, Dark caught the shred of knowledge that he needed. So Hiwatari still tried to keep himself in line, tried to protect her.

With a smirk, Dark shook his head. Whether it was too late or not for himself did not matter—only that she chose to care for the iceberg as well as for him. She deserved for Hiwatari to fight, for him not to let her down, so that he would not make all of her hard work for naught.

"No, Hiwatari," Dark murmured, his smirk growing, "I won't hear of you letting her down like that. I won't let you make her cry."


	74. Disappointment

**A/N:** Thanks to an unexpected attack of a virus, I find myself rather mentally lacking. As I was not up to editing anything, I decided I could try something different and do another just-dialogue story. It was, in fact, supposed to be even smaller than this, but somehow, these two never shut up. They could carry on a lengthy discussion about dust motes, I shouldn't wonder. However that stands, though, I hope you will be able to enjoy this story despite its slimness.

**Disclaimer:** Not even the facts about food can be claimed by me. How sad is that?

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><p>"How are you feeling, Harada-san?"<p>

"What, you can't tell with that big brain of yours? Or is it that I'm unable to be seen beneath this blanket of tissues?"

"Still rude. At least you are not too far gone."

"Are you just here to make fun of me?"

"No, actually. I came to give you this."

"... A box of chocolates? Is this for Valentine's Day?"

"I knew you would feel put out if your illness rendered you incapable of celebrating the holiday."

"But Hiwatari-kun, it's the day for _girls_ to give _boys_ chocolates, not the other way arou—hey! These aren't chocolates!"

"True."

"Fruit. You got me _fruit_ in a box for chocolates. You're mean, Hiwatari-kun."

"Consumption of chocolate while you are ill would not help you in your recovery. The fruit is somewhat sweet, but contains nutrition that will—"

"Disappointment won't help me recover either. I don't want fruit now. I want _chocolate_."

"Harada-san."

"Hmph."

"I will make sure you are fully recompensed on White Day, but for now, you need to focus on recovery."

"... You shouldn't go around saying things like that. It'll sound bad."

"Hmm. All right. Harada-san, you need to focus on recovery so that I can go back to belittling you every day."

"Tee hee... That's not what I meant."

"Good day, Harada-san. I will see you later."

"Hey, wait! You just got here."

"You need to rest. Good-bye."

"Hey, no, I'm bored! Come back and talk to me!"

"I have work to do, Harada-san."

"Hiwatari-kuuuun, why do you have to be like... like you?"

"What else do you expect me to be?"

"I don't know. Less you and... more... teddy bear!"

"... Teddy bear."

"Heeeee, yes... Soft and squishy and huggable. That's ju—wait, where are you going now?"

"To get your sister. Your condition is worse than I thought. You are clearly delusional."

"_Me_, delusional? I'm not the one who put fruit into a chocolates' box!"

"Yes, but I humbly submit for consideration the adjectives you chose in regard to myself."

"Well... maybe not 'squishy'..."

"Maybe?"

"Okay, okay, stop looking at me like that! I'll eat your stupid fruit-that-should-be-chocolates and be grateful you're not a teddy bear! Stupid Hiwatari-kun."

"Thank you."


	75. Cave

**A/N:** Hopefully this will make up for the shortness of the previous update. That aside, this story expresses my theory behind Risa's temperament and how the first chapters actually remain in harmony with the developments made in Risa's character through the progression of the story. It ought to be apparent by the end of this that I have put a lot of thought into Risa, but I also hope that it will help some people understand why she's so very lovable after all.

**Disclaimer:** Even what I suggest to be her nature and emotions herein are tied directly to Yukiru-sensei's manga. And his reactions? How could he respond elsewise?

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><p>Setting his bag on the couch devoid of cushions, Satoshi regarded the structure branching off same piece of furniture. With the added support of a couple chairs, a bed sheet acted as the main body of the tent, part of the walls constructed from pillows and cushions.<p>

He glanced over his shoulder, toying with the notion of leaving a message with the elder Harada twin. Her hints that the younger's mood brooked no visitors would give him ample excuse to leave.

Looking back at the little fortress again, he released an inaudible sigh.

He stepped forward and bent over, lifting a corner of the sheet to peer into the tent. His hair fell forward over his glasses, partially veiling the image of the younger Harada ensconced in a cluster of stuffed animals and pillows. All he could see of her, peeping out from behind her shield of stuffing, was her disheveled hair and large, attentive eyes, the sweet brown of their irises framed with faint red.

As she launched no missiles to drive away the intruder, he tucked the blanket's edge against the couch, then lowered himself to sit on the threshold of the cave.

"Harada-san, what is wrong?" he queried after a long silence proved she had no intention of volunteering information.

Her head emerged from her clustered animals, revealing a vaguely hopeful, if weak, smile. "Nothing?"

He scooted into the tent slightly, then leaned forward on one hand, studying her countenance. For a minute, she did nothing more than fiddle with the ear of a bunny she held. Used to her discomfort before confessing her problems, he continued his scrutiny while trying to repel the plans formulating in his mind of what he would do if some person held the responsibility for the tear tracks marring her face. "Slow death" niggled enticingly at the back of his conscious thought, regardless how he tried to dismiss it.

"Do... do you ever wonder... just who you are?"

Lifting his eyebrow slightly at her choice of words, he set aside the desire to solve why such a query would help him understand her problem and instead focused on actually answering the proposed question. He knew who he was, of course—the last of the Hikari, whose sole purpose was to capture Dark and seal the _Kokuyoku_ so that the world would not need to experience the dangers presented if it was left divided and rampant. His singular mission in life decreed who he was; but the past and his life had no ability to console her, and console he must. He would settle for nothing less.

"No," he confessed at last, eyes trained on her to pick up any flicker of information from her body language. "It does not matter who I am. Only if I can do what needs doing."

Brown eyes rose to meet his and he held her gaze as she processed his words. Slowly, a smile curved her mouth, then she murmured as she dropped her eyes, "Leave it to you to find a philosophical way to get out of it."

One of his eyebrows quirked upward. Perhaps it had sounded philosophical, but he did not know how else to explain to her that he had nothing in life save duty.

Before he could think of a clearer answer, she let out a small sigh, fingering the ear of the rabbit under her chin. "What... needs doing..." She let out another sigh. "But what if I don't know what I'm supposed to do?"

Shifting slightly, he glanced at the floor, weighing the possibilities of what could be bothering her enough to turn her naturally cheerful self into a doubtful child. Though such a question never presented itself to him, as he had been raised from birth with a single purpose, even the idea of being aimless in life struck him as wretched. Even if his state of being drove him to the end of all his resources, something dangled in front of him, waiting to be reached. Did she, could she really have nothing? Maybe, then, she had told him the truth: what was wrong was nothing.

With a small frown pinching his mouth, he looked at her again, struggling to find some other answer, to keep the pure innocence that he appreciated most about her from being lost to doubt.

"Di-did you ever guess?" she whispered, the ghost of a smile trembling over her face as she lifted her eyes to him, but the next second she looked down again, smile gone. "Did you ever wonder if I was really as shallow as I seem?"

The word "no" whelmed in his throat, but he forced himself to remain silent, because he could not explain that he had never believed her to be shallow. Her smiles—her true smiles—and her laughter could never be mistaken for those of such a person.

Unaware of his thoughts, she continued her tentative start to an explanation. "I've always been jealous." Closing her eyes as tightly as she closed her hands around her stuffed animals, she swallowed, then lowered her voice. "You're so lucky, Hiwatari-kun... that you're an only child. You have no idea how hard it is, being someone's little sibling... Being Riku's younger sibling."

Her eyes flew open in alarm and she rushed, "Not that she isn't amazing. She is!"

Dropping her head to rest against the toys she held, she sighed and stared at the ground. "But that's the point. She's always been amazing. Always. And I've always been inferior. She was just better than me at whatever she did. Mom and Dad trusted her more, and since she was older, she was always in line first. I felt so... so small and unneeded. I was happy to be with her and my parents and I know that they love me and take care of me... but for once, just for once, I wanted to _be_ somebody."

Her fingers roved restlessly over the fur of her rabbit. "When I realized how tomboyish Riku was, I finally realized that I could be something distinct—I could be cuter. I could be the lady she would never be." A vague smile again toyed with her mouth. "People like cute things, right? If I could be the cute one, I wouldn't have to feel inferior.

"But things like that don't satisfy... they... it's just pretend, right? It got harder... so much harder..." she trailed off, voice fading away. After a small pause, she continued bravely, "As I got older, I realized it more and more. So I got a crazy idea in my head—crazy and stupid, but... I thought that if I could just get a boyfriend who was somebody special, that'd make me special too. Someone impressive, that... if he'd just be with me, that would mean I'm someone special, too."

Curling her arms around herself, she paused a second to swallow hard. "It was always a contest, but not really against Riku. It was just to measure up. To be worth something. The contest was against myself, my own worth."

She stopped, then looked up at him, entirely vulnerable. As he stared at her impassively, new tears formed in her eyes even as a small laugh burst from her lips. She brushed away the wet marks on her face and said with a hint of mirth, a mask trying to cover her despair, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be dumping this on you, should I? It's not like you asked."

"I did," he corrected her calmly and, before she could laugh again, he added in a softened tone, "I will listen to whatever you wish to tell me, Harada-san."

"You're so nice," she mumbled, one of her true smiles showing faintly on her mouth, but then she lowered her face again. "But that's it, really. That's all there is to know about Risa Harada. One huge inferiority complex. Shallow just to fit in, to be liked."

With a small sniff, she shrugged and then rubbed her eyes. "I don't even know who I am. Sometimes I get afraid that once people figure that out, then... they'll just be gone. Why bother being around someone as messed up as me, huh?"

"I would stay," he stated, sitting up straight, his hair brushing against the blanket overhead.

She looked up, somewhat startled at the declaration, then smiled once more, a tear dripping from her lashes. "Like I said... You're so nice, Hiwatari-kun."

"I want to stay."

With the confession voiced at last, the words seemed painfully trite for all they contained. She stared at him, silent, but he felt a whisper of relief to see a glimmer of understanding show as she grasped what he had said. Again, a slow smile touched her face and she, releasing the stuffed animals she had been clutching, held out her hand to him.

"Maybe that's why we get along," she breathed, not shying away from his riveted gaze. "We're both so lonely, but we refuse to let it show."

He lifted his hand to meet hers, not about to object to her statement. At times, she proved too perceptive for her own good. Their fingertips faintly brushed, then he pressed his palm to hers. How easy it was to forget how very small her hands truly were.

"Maybe so," he agreed quietly, then stiffened slightly as she meshed her fingers with his, squeezing his hand tightly.

"Stay with me," she mumbled, her voice as much as her eyes pleading with him.

Silencing the voice that warned him to run, to refuse her, he closed his fingers slowly around her hand, then let a sliver of a smile show on his face.

"I will."

For whatever time he had left.

He would stay.


	76. Whale

**A/N:** And here I thought I would have to do something on the wide open sea and was thus avoiding this prompt for fear that I would do something horribly cliche. Instead, I had a blast. Funny how that works out.

**Disclaimer:** Borrowed and enjoyed only for the sake of fluff and wit. Yes, they can coincide.

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><p>While she knew Hiwatari-kun to be completely aware of her scrutiny, he continued to stare at the painting and ignore her. As he did not rebuke her for her obvious staring, she took it as a twofold meaning: that he did not mind her breach of manners, thus she could study him all she liked, and that something bothered him so much he entirely disregarded the chance to correct her. Whatever weighed on his mind, without a doubt, was very serious or at least very consuming.<p>

Once he had told her that part of his family lineage required him to know about art; however much truth there was in his statement, she did not think that such knowledge would render him so entirely tense and bleak simply from entering an art museum.

If he was just going to ignore her, though, she would need to take a more invasive approach.

Moving forward quickly to reach him before he could slink off into the crowd, she tried to figure out exactly what to say to him. He rarely opened himself to her—to anyone, for that matter—but she could hardly help being stubborn. Still, she had no idea how to draw him out, since he happened to be as stubborn as she.

"Hiwatari-kun," she said, stopping directly behind him and lightly clipping the back of his heel with her toe. "What's the matter?"

Though she had wanted something a little more subtle, she could hardly berate herself for trying directness. After all, Hiwatari-kun never lied.

"Hmm?" he hummed in response, glancing over his shoulder at her before turning back to examine the painting.

Never lied, but he certainly knew how to avoid saying anything.

Shifting her expression to show her most winsome smile, she edged around him to peer up into his face. "You look about as comfortable and inconspicuous as a beached whale."

Her interesting comparison earned a blink of surprise from him, then his full attention as he turned to face her. Lifting an eyebrow, imperious despite it being faint blue, he stated in his usual monotone, "I hardly think that is an appropriate metaphor."

"Would you prefer something more like... oh, I don't know, a rabbit in a dog pound?" she queried, grabbing his rolled sleeve and starting to walk in a circle, slowly spinning him around. Perhaps if she made him dizzy, he would be more inclined to tell her what she wanted to know instead of repelling her. His resistance lessened when his head hurt.

"I doubt I look so out of place or so threatened," he remarked blandly, allowing her to pull him about without so much as a flicker of an eyelash.

"Or so cute," she offered helpfully, then giggled at his slight frown which betrayed his annoyance. "Yes, you're more like one of the dogs who ate the rabbit and realized it won't digest."

"How kind," he said dryly, then disengaged her hand from his sleeve. "I am neither a whale nor a dog, and I am certainly not a maypole, Harada-san."

No longer able to spin him, she tucked her hands behind her back and grinned. "You're absolutely right."

Immediately shifting to wariness due to her unreserved agreement, he gauged her grin, brow knotting slightly as he tried to decipher her intentions. She, suppressing a giggle, snatched his hand and tugged him away from the painting he had been observing before she interrupted him.

"You happen to be my friend, Hiwatari-kun," she informed him, then spun on her heel to drag him into the hallway, "and now you're going to be my tour guide. This place is too big for me to find my way around alone."

"You seem to have no trouble finding your way when you are not supposed to be here," he said, sarcasm engulfing his voice.

Pleased to have him acting more like himself already, she tossed him a brilliant smile. "Shh. You're just supposed to be a gentleman and show me around."

"Why would I do that?" he asked, though a brief tremor of his mouth proved an answering smile tried to surface.

Warmth spread through her at the sight of his almost-smile. How could he make her feel so accomplished and happy with only a flicker of emotion?

She turned forward and pulled him along again. "Because you're nice, Hiwatari-kun, and I happen to like whales."


	77. Cloud

**A/N:** I am only glad I thought of a way out of cloud-gazing. That would have been much too easy. Though I'm not sure I wouldn't have written something better if I had... Oh well? There are a few references to a few spoilers of the later chapters, but nothing that will be very telling.

**Disclaimer:** Do not listen to my friends. Not even the golden-haired parasite is mine. I'd take him readily, though. In case the manga-ka is having a garage sale or something...

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><p>Bile coated his mouth as the numbness spread through his chest, like a void forming inside, pulling him deeper into the darkness. His heart, straining against his physical exhaustion, faltered painfully under the constant weight of his curse, reminding him that he could only continue a short while longer. Regardless of the effect on his body, he still had to try, to struggle after the vain ambition to catch the Phantom Thief at last and reunite the two halves of Kokuyoku. His purpose in life consisted of nothing more; he needed to end the dangers crafted by the hands of his ancestor.<p>

Driving him onward more than his own determination, the hated voice of Krad echoed in his mind, commanding him to push through the pain searing from his chest to every part of his body. Neither of them could relinquish the constantly thwarted hope that one day Dark would no longer be able to escape. With Kokuyoku threatening to reach its limit, Satoshi could not afford to lose for much longer.

Near at hand, he could hear the slap of boots over the marble floor, proof that his quarry had not managed to flee the building yet. His desperation mingled with a sensation almost like victory. Only a little further, and the chase would reach its end.

"Dark-san!"

The voice, not far in front of him, snatched his focus away from his target and brought his body to an ungainly halt. Stumbling forward a little further, he reached out for the wall to keep from collapsing to the ground.

"Satoshi-sama, what are you doing?" Krad demanded, his voice undulating as he attempted to retain a cool demeanour. "Dark Wing is within our grasp!"

"He will slow for her," Satoshi replied firmly, regulating his breathing as much as he could despite the burning of his lungs.

"So we must not slow for her," Krad insisted, pushing slightly at his host's defenses, trying to force transformation. "Let me continue the chase since you are so tired, Satoshi-sama."

"No," Satoshi snapped and started to walk forward, his hand gliding along the wall for support. "I will handle this."

Receding somewhat, Krad murmured obediently, "If you wish..."

Granted momentary peace, Satoshi returned to fighting his wearied body and listening to the fierce whispering of the two ahead of him. Unwittingly or not, why did Harada-san find it necessary to stick her foot into his business?

When he rounded the next corner, he saw their two figures at the end of the hall, Dark trying to weasel his way out of both the poorly-timed encounter and Harada-san's hold on his sleeve. Though Dark stood so near, delayed in his escape, Satoshi hung back from entering the hallway, not interested in being pulled into the confrontation. Never mind that the Hikari's pursuit of Dark Kaitou extended for generations—if Harada-san demanded to be heard, heard she would be.

"Let me handle this, Satoshi-sama," Krad said, straining again to take control. "She has no reason to talk to me—let me pursue Dark Wing."

"She will recognize you from when we kept her from falling from the tower," Satoshi replied dismissively, steeling himself against Krad's attempt. "We should wait for him to break away from her."

"We cannot wait! This is madness!" With a hiss, Krad silenced his outpouring of wrath, then resumed his argument calmly, "We must capture Dark at all costs. Ending a mere conversation is not even worth worrying over."

"It is when you would drag Harada-san into the fray," Satoshi responded, curling his hand into a fist. "I refuse to let you."

"Do not let the girl cloud your judgment, Satoshi-sama," Krad purred, voice dripping honey as he tried again to force transformation. "You can hardly let her stand between you and your destiny."

Inhaling deeply, Satoshi closed his eyes and stepped back from the hall. Slowly, he let himself sag against the wall as he whispered, "No. For once, I have clarity enough to know my own judgment. Whatever happens to me does not matter—but I will not let harm come to her."


	78. Carrot

**A/N:** And this is just dialogue to match its counterpart. The two wanted to keep talking. Eventually, I had to just stop transcribing the conversation to keep from making a novel out of mere dialogue.

**Disclaimer:** I am only playing in another's realm. Never mind how the two are still squabbling in my head.

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><p>"There you are!"<p>

"Harada-san...? What are you doing here?"

"What am _I_ doing here? Why are you asking me that? _I_ followed _you_ up here."

"Followed me."

"That's what I said. Scoot over. How can you stand to climb so many stairs?"

"The roof is secluded. I prefer eating alone."

"Oh. Poor Hiwatari-kun. His secret is out now."

"No, it is not. You will not tell anyone."

"Tee hee. You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, okay, stop with the look. Your secret is safe with me."

"How reassuring."

"Oh, stop. You know I'm good at keeping secrets."

"When it behooves you."

"Be nice or I won't give you your gift."

"... My what?"

"Gift. See, a gift is wh—"

"Thank you, Harada-san, but I hardly need a definition."

"Okay. Here. Do you need instructions on how to open a gift?"

"I think I know how to open a box, thank you."

"Just making sure."

"What is the occasion, Harada-san?"

"Don't you know what to-day is?"

"March fourteenth."

"Exactly! It's White Day."

"As I seem to recall, that is when a male gives gifts to—"

"Yes, but you went out of order and gave me something for Valentine's."

"Only you, Harada-san."

"I'll take it as a compliment. Now open it!"

"... Carrots?"

"Hee, of course!"

"... Is this some jibe at my eating habits?"

"No, silly. You gave me fruit for Valentine's Day, so I gave you vegetables for White Day!"

"... How clever."

"Mhm. I know I am. That's how I can manage to keep up with you."

"That I can only accredit to your inclination to stalk."

"Heeeey. I was nice and got you a present."

"Vegetables."

"Well, nobody's perfect."


	79. Ambassador

**A/N:** Funny how the prompts that fill me with the most dread often wind up the ones that I feel are the most creatively pleasing. No genius here besides the one with blue hair, but a subtle shift in perception of reality does show, in both parties.

**Disclaimer:** I am merely a scribe tagging along. I own nothing.

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><p>While she did have an occasional fit of moodiness, Harada-san rarely spent a whole half hour sitting by herself in the same attitude. Her uncustomary behaviour worried him, though he knew the cause to be none other than the Phantom Thief's vanishing before the girl could catch up with him the night before. Regardless of the reason, she could hardly be left to a fit of melancholy, even if the mood kept her out from under foot.<p>

Picking up his book bag, Satoshi rose from his place on the bench, never removing his eyes from Harada-san, who sat with her back to the trunk of a blossoming tree, her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin nestled against her knees. As he approached her, he noted a slight turn of her head toward him, but she gave no other evidence to having realized his approach. When he stopped beside her, she relaxed into her former position and remained silent, a quiet he made no effort to break. Ever nonchalant, he leaned against the sakura and waited.

"I had come up with the best date ever," she announced after a few minutes, her ability to remain quiet having reached its limit. "Maybe it seems silly to you, but I did my best. I wanted to prove to him that I wasn't just a child, that I could be interesting and live up to him."

Though she had lost desire to keep her thoughts to herself, he kept his peace, waiting for her to finish airing her troubles without interruption from his logic or from his disdain of Dark.

"I really thought that I could keep up, but he was in and out so fast last night, I never even caught a glimpse of him," she mumbled, picking at the hem of her uniform's skirt. "I'm just annoyed, that's all. It's not a real problem."

Fully aware that her pause only invited him to brush her off, he stared straight ahead in silence, waiting for the rest to come. She hesitated a little while longer, then mumbled quietly, "I got my hopes up. Even though he said not to try, I still let myself get my hopes up, for nothing. He just runs away."

Her shoulders drooped in defeat and she heaved a long sigh, then lowered her hands to her sides. He watched her for a minute, partly to see if some thought would be voiced belatedly, though also to wonder what could be said. If she pursued Dark further, only more trouble would come—but she had already given so much of herself to the thief.

With a small sigh, he looked at the boughs overhead, then plucked one of the small, newly budding flowers from the nearest branch. Lowering himself down to a crouch beside her, he said quietly, "At least you can still hope. It takes a strong heart for that."

Sweet brown eyes lifted to his face and he tucked the tiny blossom into her hair. "He will pay his princess heed in time, Harada-san."

Taken aback, she gaped at him a moment, then a ghost of a smile flitted over her face as she queried wryly, "You know that, do you? So what does that make you? His herald?"

"Perhaps," he responded with a vague smirk. "Or merely an ambassador."

Her smile brightened, then she ducked her head, shaking it ruefully. "Even if you are only an ambassador..."

She lifted her hand, toying with the petals of the flower in her hair, and continued in a murmur, "You treat me better than my fairy tale prince does. You treat me as if I am real and worth something."

Slowly, she released a sigh, then lifted her gaze to meet his. "He just rejects me."

Studying her open, honest face, he wondered if she would ever be able to know or understand the amount of light she had shed on Dark's world, how far she had entered unlike any other, just as she had in his own world.

Quietly, refusing to allow any feeling to show in his words, he asked, "Have you ever wondered if he needs to do so, because he is not worthy of you?"

"Don't be silly," she scolded him, rolling her eyes.

Before she could venture an actual refute to his question, he commented, "I would never dare be silly in your presence, princess."

At those words, spoken in perfect monotone, her tension drained away and she dissolved into laughter, causing him to smile slightly at the sound.

His favourite sound.


	80. Vein

**A/N:** It had to be done. How could I resist?

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine. Just the legwork.

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><p>Curling his arm around his waist, breath ragged, he shuffled a few more steps before his knees gave way and he crumpled to the ground. As his heavy lids slid down, Harada-san's startled, fearful cry rang out, compelling him to search for her before the world vanished into darkness. Unable to move, he listened as she stumbled toward him, calling his name in desperation. When she reached him and knelt at his side, her trembling fingers fumbled over his neck in search of his carotid artery as she mumbled desperate pleas for him to be all right.<p>

Forcing his lips to part, he pushed out a weak breath. "Wait..."

At the sound of his voice, she inhaled sharply, then cradled his head in her hands, her voice throbbing with tearful relief, "Oh, you're all right! You're all right!"

"No..." he murmured again, forcing his eyes open to escape the darkness and see her face again; she hovered overhead, her cheeks flushed in agitation despite the paleness consuming the rest of her countenance. When her eyes met his, he continued, quiet, "It is over now."

"No. No, it's not," she insisted, then swallowed hard as she met his steady gaze, her chin quivering.

"You are safe, finally," he said with a hitch in his breath, his hand straying to his waist in search of the wound gained in protecting her. "Go on."

"No!" she cried sharply, tightening her hold on him, looking about herself desperately for someone to aid her, then back to him, eyes wide and intense. "Don't say that—please, don't leave. Don't leave me."

Calm despite her agitation, he lifted his hand to touch the back of her shivering fingers and confirmed his state impassively, "It cannot be helped."

Her face contorted and she shifted her grasp to his shirt, fists closing over his shoulders. "You shouldn't... You shouldn't have done this. You should have tried to save yourself!"

At that foolish statement, a small smile flitted over his mouth, then he murmured, "Protecting you is the only good that has ever come from my life."

"Stop," she choked, pulling back her hands. "Save your strength. I'll go get help and—"

Brushing his weakening hand over her cheek, he regained her attention. "I am glad for the time we have had together, and that my last act was for you."

"I don't want it to be your last," she breathed, voice strangled in agony. "I don't want to be without you. I want to be with you—always."

"I am always yours," he mumbled, his eyelids falling shut in exhaustion. "Do not grieve."

"No... no, don't die."

A cool drop landed on his jaw, unexpected, and his eyes shot open, searching her face for the source of the water. On her flushed cheek, the faint track of a tear glinted, and still more moisture clung to her lashes. Unthinking, he sat upright and rubbed his thumb over her eyelids to clear away the tears, voice monotone, "Why are you crying, Harada-san?"

"Cut!" Saehara, enraged, lunged from his perch on the school desk. "Hiwatari-kun, what are you _doing_? Why did you stop the scene?"

As Satoshi continued to dry her eyes, he answered the director, "Her crying was not in the script."

"She was _improvising_! Getting into character. It was good—beautiful!—and you ruined it!" Saehara ranted, flailing his hands in frustration, though the actors paid him no heed.

"I'm fine, Hiwatari-kun," Harada-san said, offering him a little smile in consolation. "It's just a play."

"Then play fair," he replied, lowering his hand to lean on it while observing her, "and do not cry."

Amused, she shook her head at him, her smile growing as she remarked, "You're such a softie, Hiwatari-kun. No one would believe it at a glance, but you are."

"Hmm." He could not truthfully deny that her tears reduced him to an irrational state, so the only choice that remained was keeping his thoughts to himself.

She tipped her head back, glancing at Saehara as he vented his annoyance on Niwa, the latter sitting politely, if uncomfortably, through his friend's tirade. With another shake of her head, she sighed, "I guess we should go tell him we can start the scene over. I'm sure I can get through it without distracting you."

"All right," Satoshi said, gathering his feet beneath himself to stand, but then a little hand closed around his arm.

"Wait, Hiwatari-kun," she mumbled and then shrank a little as he turned his gaze upon her. Hesitant, she viewed him a moment, then smiled. "The play aside—you're not allowed to die."

"Not allowed," he repeated, eyebrow arching upward.

Her smile grew more confident and she confirmed with a nod, "Not allowed. I won't let you."

Rolling his eyes, he pointed out blandly, "Harada-san, while it may come as a shock to you, the fact that you order me to defy a law of nature will not prove a sufficient impediment for death."

"You defy ever other law of nature," she contested in a matching tone.

His eyebrows quirked slightly as he regarded her, then he opened his mouth to highlight the error of such an assertion, but she laughed before he could speak.

"I'm just teasing," she said, but again, before he could utter a sound, she turned earnest eyes upon him. "But don't go away any time soon."

Only a second passed before he stood, catching her arm and pulling her to her feet. Dismissing any thought of her realizing his true state and looming death, he released her arm and answered honestly, "I will stay with you—as long as I can."

"I trust you," she said, uncharacteristically solemn, almost as if she could compel him from sheer gravity to tell her the whole truth. Unflinching, he met her gaze, though her words made him wonder if she would feel any sense of betrayal when she learned just how little time he had left.

"Don't be so glum," she laughed, breaking eye contact at last and turning toward Saehara. "After all, I told you."

Arching his eyebrows, he folded his arms and trailed after her, waiting for further explanation. She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a disconcerting, cryptic smile. "I won't let you."

As she looked away, he locked his jaw, grateful that his stolid appearance gave no evidence of the wonder and trepidation he felt.

She did not know. She could not.


	81. Pin

**A/N:** This idea spawned from my beta suggesting Saehara running around with an over-sized sewing pin. I'm thinking this is probably a little more reasonable. And "tsundere" means "a Japanese character development process that describes a person who is initially cold and even hostile towards another person before gradually showing his warm side over time."

**Disclaimer:** The bunny owns everything besides my choice of words. Pity.

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><p>"Aren't you excited to be up on stage again, Hiwatari-kun?"<p>

"Why would that excite me?"

Poking the pin through the fabric of the costume spread over her desk, Risa risked a quick glance at Hiwatari-kun, who sat at the desk neighbouring hers while he worked with astonishing speed on the prop sword he had been assigned to make. After jealously eying his deft fingers, she turned back to her own task as she explained, "Because you were so good last time. Niwa-kun stole the show because he was so cute and awkward, yes, but everyone said you made a perfect Dark-san."

His response of an inelegant snort made her laugh, but her mirth cut short in a little yelp as she yanked her hand back. With a little whimper, she examined her finger for any trace of blood and, upon finding none, allowed herself the privilege of proving her pain by whining, "Oooowww."

"What happened?" he asked, setting down the sword and leaning toward her.

Extending her injured hand to him in the hope that with his glasses he could manage to see the little hole in her fingertip, she sniffled pathetically and replied, "I jabbed myself with the pin."

Any trace of worry that had shown through his stubbornly inexpressive countenance vanished as he turned away and resumed his work. "Ah."

She waited half a minute before wheedling, "Well, aren't you going to help me?"

His left eyebrow lifted slowly, then he shifted his gaze to her, asking dryly, "Help you with what? Being less clumsy?"

Shocked at his absolute lack of manners, she stomped her foot a little, scolding, "No! You're not supposed to _mock_ me—you're supposed to be a gentleman and rush to my _rescue_!"

"Rescue you from a pin that is no longer causing you grief," he stated, sarcasm bleeding into the words.

Slumping back in her chair, she flopped her hand at him languidly as she pouted, "Kiss it all better, you meanie."

"No."

However final the word sounded, she could hardly let him off so easily. Leaning forward again, she waved her hand in his face to distract him from his efforts on the sword. "But Hiwatari-kun, it _is_ your fault I got hurt. You made a funny noise and I poked myself because you made me laugh!"

"I apologize for making you laugh," he said in monotone, shifting away from the hand obstructing his view.

"No, no! You're so stubborn!"

"Harada-san," he interrupted, condescending to suspend her dramatics, "if you wish me to take my work elsewhere, I will."

Hushed with that notion, she crossed her arms and snapped her jaw shut, proving she could be a most remarkably quiet companion.

For all of five seconds.

"You know, Hiwatari-kun," she drawled, picking up his costume to continue her work, "you're definitely not the Princely Type."

"Thank you," he responded, lifting the sword to examine the secondary bevel.

To avoid further injury, she concentrated on fitting another pin into the fabric, then peeked at her companion. Grinning impishly, she tipped over toward him slightly, disturbing his focus with a singsonged, "You're a _tsundere_, Hiwatari-kun. You're cuuuute."

He glanced at her, eyebrows shooting upward, then resumed his work with a roll of his eyes as she laughed at him.

"That's right," she giggled, patting his shoulder. "I've discovered Hiwatari-kun's secret—but I'll keep quiet, I promise."

"You are too kind," he commented blandly, refusing to look at her.

"I know. I learned from the best," she said, smile widening. "You."

Beaming at the quiet grunt he gave in reply, she settled back into her seat.

Yes, he definitely was the kindest person she knew.


	82. Twisty Tie

**A/N:** When I am in pain, I like to inflict a similar malady upon those residing in my head. Cruel as that may sound, it makes the empathy skyrocket, along with accurate portrayal. So, while it was not quite migraine status...

**Disclaimer:** Only the headache. Only the headache, m'dears.

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><p>While he had been accustomed to constant pain for years, usually he could distract himself from the nagging aches and sharp flashes of agony by focusing his attention on some goal, be it remote or pressing. However, as he sprawled on the couch, with his eyes shut against the light around him and his cold fingers working slowly over his head to help regulate the burning that spread from his brow to his occipital, he found himself unable to divert his mind from the cruel infliction of his migraine.<p>

"Really, Hiwatari-kun, you'd think a genius would know better than to _just_ eat bread and soba." Her voice drifted out from the direction of the kitchen—or at least, he presumed as much. The throbbing of his head made it hard to rely on any of his senses, let alone solely hearing.

"That's a very unhealthy diet," Harada-san continued, her words growing louder and thus more jarring as she approached him. "It's incredible to think you've survived on that for so long. Hiwatari-kun, are you listening?"

"Yes," he grumbled, barely moving his mouth, but she seemed satisfied with the answer, for she plowed onward.

"I've brought you a bunch of vegetables and some fruit, and I'll add that to your soba so you can get better. What do you want for lunch?"

"To be left alone," he informed her, moving his hands to massage his scalp, leaving his eyes closed to avoid the glaring daylight.

She clucked her tongue, wholly unmoved by his iciness, then walked away from him, drawling, "Fine. I guess that means I get to pick."

Though Harada-san's cooking skills had improved over the course of his acquaintance with her, he still did not like the idea of eating something she made from scratch, but chasing her out of his apartment would require more effort than it would be worth. Even if the food turned out unpalatable, his headache would make the cries of his taste buds insignificant, and he would not have to go hungry or try the more dangerous attempt of making soba for himself half-blind.

After a half hour of quiet disturbed only by increased pressure in his skull that made his ears buzz, he heard her approaching again. Turning his head toward her, he tried to crack an eye open, but she clucked her tongue, scolding him, "No. You know you're light-sensitive."

Something radiating cold pressed against his head, crackling a little as it molded around his cranium. As she took one of his hands and put it over the filled towel, she instructed him quietly, "Hold the ice there. It should help. The food will be finished in a bit."

For a moment, he luxuriated in the relief the ice brought, then dared to open his mouth. "Thank you, Harada-san."

"Mmhmm. Just relax," she said, settling down somewhere near him.

Following her advice by draping his arm over his eyes, he wondered just how long she would be able to allow him to rest before she spoke.

Regardless of his pessimistic expectations, she held her tongue, making noise only when she stirred to check on the food. Though he knew she could keep her peace when she chose, her uninterrupted silence worried him. She knew how to get herself into trouble the moment he turned his back, and on top of that, she happened to be in his apartment—sitting near at hand, yes, but unnervingly quiet while doing so.

Removing his arm from his face, he blinked a few times to clear his vision, then turned his head toward her. "Harada-san..."

"Hmm? Yes?" she responded and sat up straight in the chair she had taken, her eyebrows peaking.

He stared a moment at what rested in her hands before asking blandly, "What are you doing?"

"Oh, this?" she laughed, examining the produce twist ties that she held, crudely shaped into some semblance of tiny glasses. "I was just making stuff so I could cosplay as you."

With a grin, she positioned the ties on the bridge of her nose, only to have the wires break free of the knots she had made and fall apart. She snickered a little as she gathered the bent ties to try again. "It's going to take a while."

After the discovery that rolling his eyes hurt, he dropped his arm back over his face and settled the ice lower on his head. Since she posed no threat to the wholeness of his apartment, and as long as she was quiet about mocking him, he did not care a whit.

Not a whit, until he caught a whiff of smoke. Being right so often was a nuisance.

Heaving a tiny sigh, he informed his companion, "I think lunch is finished."


	83. Leaf

**A/N:** Thanks to an insanely busy schedule, I decided to try for a real drabble. Didn't quite make it, but it was nice to work with something tiny anyway—and wouldn't you know it, I was unintentionally brilliant. Happy Earth Day?

**Disclaimer:** I have no bunny ears, I have no claim.

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><p>She had managed to keep him from sequestering himself on the roof to eat his lunch alone again. That, at least, was something.<p>

Still, Risa had hoped he would do more than sit beside her and read. As used to his silence as she had become, she typically preferred his companionship when he wanted to talk—even if that consisted of primarily monosyllabic responses to her chatter.

Looking up from her failing attempt at a chain of fallen sakura blossoms, she squinted slightly at the azure hair just an arm's length away. If she moved very carefully, she might be able to add a few pink and white accents to his unusual hair.

Abruptly turning her gaze back to the wilting flowers spread over her lap, she reminded herself that she wanted him to spend more lunches with her instead of hiding on the roof; if she decorated his hair with flowers, even though she had the excuse that he was ignoring her, she could hardly expect him to agree to eat with her any time soon.

A fallen leaf caught her attention, interrupting the meandering flow of her thoughts, and she lifted it stealthily from the ground. Flowers would, understandably, be frowned upon, but who could say how strongly he would react to a few leaves? If she put them in just so, people might assume the wind was to blame. Not that he would think that for a second, but it would be much more amusing than trying to knot minute stems together.

"No," Hiwatari-kun said at random, not looking up from the page he read.

"E-eh?" she stammered, caught wholly off guard by his firm tone.

Without so much as a glance at her, he elucidated, "You may not stick that—or anything else—on me."

"I-I would never!" she blurted, tossing the leaf away as if releasing it could prove her innocence.

After all, she would never stick it on him if he saw it coming.


	84. Peach

**A/N:** So. I tell my brain to write something small. It obliges, by staying a hair under a thousand words. Well, what can one do, when Hiwatari-kun wants to mock? One can hardly say _no_, right? He's just so good at it. Helpful, too. I was worried my food-themed prompts would all start to look alike eventually. He gave me a way out of the rut. This is also, by the way, a companion story to my previous prompt, Bacon.

**Disclaimer:** For once, something of this is mine. I happen to own a fraction of "that couple". That's worth something, isn't it?

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><p>"Ah, Hiwatari-kun!"<p>

Harada-san's excited voice broke his concentration on the report Inspector Saehara had written concerning Dark's latest escapade; not a wholly unwelcome distraction, but after reviewing both Dark's victory and his guards incompetence, Satoshi wondered exactly how much she would appreciate having found him.

Ignorant of his mood, she waved as she hurried toward him, a half-eaten peach in her other hand—likely the remains of her lunch that she had been finishing while hunting for him. Stopping before the bench where he sat, she bounced a little on her toes, excitement poorly suppressed, and said, "There you are."

"Imagine that; I am," he agreed, closing the folder he had read and setting it aside. "Clever of you to notice."

Not so much as a flicker of an eyelash showed her heeding the jibe, and she carried on excitedly, "You remember in History, how they were talking about the medieval times in Europe?"

"As I possess something of a remarkable memory and it _was_ only this afternoon, yes. I do happen to remember," he confirmed, leaning back against the bench and crossing his arms.

"Shush," she chided him, waving her free hand dismissively. "I have something important to say. Stop teasing me."

Lifting his eyebrows, he answered in monotone, "I will do my best."

"_Hiwatari-kun_. Really," she said, sparing him a quick glare to warn him into submission.

"Go ahead, Harada-san," he prompted her, smirking slightly as he gestured for her to continue.

"Thank you," she exhaled, then took a deep breath before launching into her explanation. "So, do you _also_ remember that story I was reading a while ago, with the cute couple and how they were holding hands and being so adorable?"

He nodded once. "It is rather hard to forget, as I do not often hear the word 'cute' used with such frequency in such a short span of time."

"Hiwatari-kun, really," she scolded, brow furrowing as she wagged her finger at him, "I told you to stop teasing."

"You also said you have something important to say," he reminded her, cocking his head to the side. "I have yet to hear it."

"Stop teasing me and I'll get to it!"

"If you say so."

She gave him a small glare, remarking coolly, "Yes. I do. Now, as I was trying to say, I was thinking in class—No! Don't, shush! Do _not_ say that is a surprise."

His eyebrows lifted and he refused to let a smirk show. "I was not going to say a thing."

"You were thinking it too loudly," she sniffed, her nose turning up slightly, and he strangled the desire to chuckle.

"Harada-san, the important something you must say...?" he reminded her, arching an eyebrow.

Recalled to the previous subject, her face lit up in excitement and she flailed her arms a little, sending a small spray of juice from her peach in his direction, but she prattled on without notice. "Ah, right, yes! I realized that the couple from the book would be _so perfect_ back in that day and age!"

As his glasses received a splattering of juice, he blandly removed them from his face and pulled out his handkerchief to wipe off the lenses. "Astonishing."

Not acknowledging his dry tone, she continued to explain eagerly, "I mean, everything fit! It would be so easy to adapt them into a prince and princess—or something like that—and they'd be so cute!"

He set the cleaned glasses back on his nose and glanced at her, inquiring, "And this is the important something?"

"Yes, of course it is!" she confirmed, clasping her arms to herself and somehow managing not to squeeze juice on herself in the process. In her own happy world, she swayed from side to side, still talking, "I was dying to get out of class and tell somebody, but Riku wasn't very interested to hear and Ritsuko said it would be too complicated, but I'm sure it wouldn't be! They'd work really well."

"Hmm," he hummed, picking up his folder, then added generously, "Interesting."

"You don't think so," she said with a little laugh, "but thank you for saying it."

He smirked at her, not about to deny the truth of her words.

"I just wish that somebody would write it," she added in conclusion, looking at the sky wistfully, as if it could deliver an obliging author to do her bidding.

"Why not you?"

"Eh?" she gasped, looking down at him in astonishment. "_Me_? But I can't write it—I'm not a writer."

"You write enough for school and you read enough novels to know the basics of applying words," he pointed out, rising from his seat, "and even if you did not have that advantage, you are the most inclined to romantic indulgences in this school, so you know more about it than anyone here. At the very least, that makes you the most apparently capable."

Eyes narrowed, she stared at him for a moment before asking suspiciously, "Was that a compliment or an insult?"

Again, he smirked at her. "Which do you want it to be?"

"A compliment," she said decidedly, leveling an almost challenging look at him.

"Then it is a compliment," he confirmed, picking up the folder and tucking it under his arm.

Patting his shoulder with her clean hand, she laughed lightly, "Then thank you, Hiwatari-kun."

"You are most welcome," he said, bowing to her, which caused her to laugh more.

"You know, Hiwatari-kun," she giggled, stepping forward to fall into stride with him as he began to walk, "sometimes, you being so weird can be very sweet."

"Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?"

"Which do you want it to be?"


	85. Cord

**A/N:** I did a much better job at keeping things short and simple this time. Which is good, because I'm running late (which happens to be why I settled for something short and simple, even when my mind was telling me such is not allowed).

**Disclaimer:** I don't have anything. Even the cord isn't mine this time. I am using this to show my sympathy to a friend who had the same sort of trouble. So I own nothing. Again.

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><p>Satoshi stared, unseeing, at the screen of his laptop.<p>

He had spent eight successive hours developing a defense strategy to prevent Dark from taking another Hikari artwork, interrupted only once to let Harada-san into his apartment so she would not beat the door down, and after all the time and labour he funneled into the task, he had almost reached the end of his preparations. Elaborate, plausible preparations. He might have finally outwitted the thief— And then everything went black.

"I'm so sorry, Hiwatari-kun!" Harada-san gasped, reaching for the cord that had, in tripping her, been yanked from the outlet.

"No, leave it," he said, setting aside the dead computer. "I will take care of it, thank you."

"I didn't mean to," she offered weakly, glancing between the laptop and its owner. "B-but why did it shut off? Don't you have a battery for it?"

After he put the plug back in the outlet, he did a quick check of the rest of the cord as he explained impassively, "I had been working so long it started to overheat. I removed the battery to keep it running—I did not expect to have a visitor."

Ironic, how Dark's biggest fan managed so often to frustrate attempts to capture him.

"D-did you lose a lot, Hiwatari-kun?" she queried with a penitent air, and he wondered, if he told her just what she had ruined, if she would be glad of her clumsiness for once.

"Not too much, I hope," he said as he sat back down beside the laptop, pressing the power button. "I have saved along the way."

"That's something. Could I help, maybe?" she asked, perking up at the notion of righting the problem.

However, he did not reply, but instead stared again at the blank screen of his laptop. One more click of the power button confirmed the machine was not going to turn on.

Suppressing a groan, he dropped his head to the keyboard.

Sometimes, he realized the truth in what his mother had told him: if he pushed away everyone, his life would be easier. No one, at least, would have the chance to accidentally break his laptop and spoil eight hours of work.

"Hiwatari-kun?"

With a small sigh, he schooled his features to retain a blank expression as he lifted his head to look at her.

"If you want, you can use my computer, and I'll take yours to be fixed," she suggested, her earnest doe eyes fixed on his face, worry and anxious hope intermingling.

He stared for a moment, idly wondering how anyone could push away someone with eyes like hers, then he straightened his shoulders. "Thank you, Harada-san, but I need my own computer for this."

"Then I can go get it fixed while you make yourself some breakfast?"

Shutting the laptop, he shook his head; she had caused enough damage to his computer already and he would not allow her to risk more.

"Then can I come with you?" she asked, tagging about his heels like a hopeful puppy.

"If I left you here, who knows what other repairs would be needed," he replied in monotone.

"I'm not that bad," she scolded him, then caught his sleeve. He did not need to look at her to know that she added the eyes to her puppy impression. "Hiwatari-kun, may I _please_ come with you?"

"Yes," he agreed without hesitation, fully aware that the answer would be the same regardless of how long he tried to refuse her.

Who needed an easy life, anyway?


	86. Family

**A/N:** Almost forgot that Mother's Day is followed by Monday. So here is my Mother's Day themed prompt.

**Disclaimer:** Only part of her opinion is mine, but it still follows with her personality, so, nothing?

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><p>"Hiwatari-kun, do you miss your mother?"<p>

Interrupted from reading by her random question, he glanced over at the girl sitting beside him on the park bench. While he had known her silent companionship could not last, he had hardly expected her to start a conversation with such a question. A quick scan of the surrounding area suggested that her inquiry stemmed from the sight of a woman walking hand in hand with a little boy, but did not give him any inspiration regarding how to answer her. Harada-san would not appreciate the truth, let alone be able to know the full of it.

Wholly aware the reply would not satisfy her, after a moment he said simply, "No."

"How come?" she asked, surprising him in that she did not herself sound surprised. "You said she was your last living relative."

With a small shrug, he closed his book and turned his attention to studying the middle distance. "Family is different for me than it is for you."

"No, it's not."

He glanced her way but did not attempt to correct her. Regardless of the many times she proved her perspicacity, she had no way of grasping what family meant to him, had caused him. An unrelenting duty to fix the mistakes made in the past, a paralyzing pain that divided him from normal humans, a shortened lifespan and forced solitude—all due to his bloodline and nothing else. For all that Harada-san could understand, she would never comprehend his life altogether.

"Just because you didn't have a good family or many people in that family doesn't mean family is different," she insisted, shifting on the bench so she could face him fully.

His mouth twitched wryly as he responded, "Everyone perceives things differently, Harada-san, and no one lives the same life. It is different for every person."

"Different for everyone, sure," she conceded with a shrug, then leaned forward, earnest, "but family is still family. Being related by blood doesn't matter so much, because whether or not those people treat you badly, or aren't around for a long time, it doesn't change the fact that family is family."

Before he could point out a fallacy in her words, she curled her hands over her skirt and continued passionately, "There will still be people who will take care of you and watch out for you, people who want what's best for you. That's family. Even if it seems or looks different because of who you are, life is still about the people around you. No one was born to be alone."

An odd twist in his chest reminded him that she possessed the infuriating habit of circling maddeningly close to the heart of an issue, but he did not let a trace of his discomfort show on his countenance.

"Even if you don't like it, Hiwatari-kun, you were born to be around other people," she told him, sitting back and releasing her hold on her skirt, "because people are the whole point of being alive. It wouldn't matter what you could do, if you were here all by yourself. You'd just be surviving then. The point of being alive on this earth is the people—we're here to find family."

"And what does this have to do with my mother?" he asked, refusing to let her know that the point of his existence was survival—until he could complete his hopeless task or die trying.

"The people you were born around are your first family," she said while studying his face, as if she knew he hid some sign from her. "It'd be nice if they could be your closest family, but it doesn't always work out that way."

"There is more to life than people," he said, looking away from her to avoid the niggling desire to tell her more than she needed to know.

"You can't take anything with you when life is over and you can't earn back wasted time," she pointed out, settling against the bench. "What's the point of doing anything here unless it's for other people?"

"One can do things for people who will never be counted as family."

His life revolved around protecting people, people who he could never be near, from the sins of his ancestor; his family had risked the lives of many, and the duty to save the innocence as much as the lives of hundreds fell directly on his shoulders. Such a thing could be considered a noble cause—so why did he feel the need to defend himself?

Without a sound, she gently laid her fingers over his and clasped his hand. He met her gaze, eyebrows arching, but she only smiled softly and said, "And that, Hiwatari-kun, is why you deserve family."

"I never said I did such things," he replied, though his jaw clenched slightly at the end. Her smile remained, almost taunting him with the notion that she could read his mind.

"I see you do it for everyone, Hiwatari-kun," she said quietly, pressing his hand. "I don't know why you do it the way that you do, but you take care of people. I'll find out why, someday."

Of everyone he had ever met who were not involved in the curse, the one with the greatest chance of finding out certainly was Harada-san—but likewise, of every innocent he had ever met, he would protect her from the truth and its ramifications above all.

"Mm."

After a moment, she released his hand and sat back, studying his face. "Hiwatari-kun?"

"Yes?"

One of her brightest smiles lit up her face. "Do you want me to be your mother?"

He blinked once, surprised yet again, then turned away from her, letting a little annoyance sharpen his otherwise bland "No."

Family, perhaps, but never mother.


	87. Gum Wrapper

**A/N:** This is one where I had to give in and let Risa be her normal, selfish self. How can she be so cute about it, though? Skills.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing at all bunny-like about me.

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><p>Despite her best intentions to stay locked in her room until the world in general wooed her out again, Risa found herself in dire need of chewing gum. Not just any chewing gum, of course, but a stick of Black Black (she had managed to empty her solitary pack a few days ago). What she needed could only be found in her sister's room and—though sulking, in its proper sense, ought to be an art form as much as a set of strictly followed rules—she did not risk much by sneaking out of her bedroom, considering she would meet no one: her father was at work, her mother making dinner, and Niwa-kun, who had come over to visit earlier, was in the backyard with Riku, enjoying a conversation uninterrupted by a third party. Not that she cared one bit what they were doing, as she was busy sulking. Even though Niwa-kun had knocked on her door and said hello, he had been more than happy to allow Riku to distract him from doing more, so Risa had absolutely no reason to leave her confines save that the gum needed to be fetched. If she did meet with someone, she could employ the cold shoulder—that happened to be a particular talent of hers.<p>

Emerging cautiously from her room, she scanned the hall for any unexpected person milling about, then hurried over to her twin's bedroom. Once inside, she began to sift through Riku's things in search of the gum, intent on doing a job worthy of a Phantom Thief; if she could manage that, venturing from her room would be entirely worth abusing proper sulking etiquette, even if being in Riku's room enabled her to hear, floating through the open balcony door, the merry chatter of the two lovebirds outside.

Because Riku never succeeded in hiding anything properly, Risa quickly located the stash of gum and bestowed a stick upon herself for a job well done. Even though she did not have to worry about being chased by countless guards, she felt that the result of her efforts would be lauded by Dark-san. Despite such a pleasing thought, she still found herself straining to overhear any distinct words from the discussion below. As they did not wish to be around her, she could only imagine they wanted time alone to flirt, however awkwardly; that did not stop her from trying to distinguish a sentence or two, in case she needed something to keep Riku from pestering her about stealing the gum.

Before Risa withdrew to her room again, a familiar sound interrupted the flow of conversation outside, and she stopped her attempt to fold the empty wrapper back into shape. Why was Hiwatari-kun there?

Inching her way onto the balcony, taking great pains not to be noticed, she strained to distinguish his words, but his confounded habit of speaking quietly prevented her from hearing anything beyond the lulling hum of his voice. Defeated and again sulking in full force, she pressed her lips in a firm line and leaned forward to peer over the railing. Stretching out her neck enabled her to spot the group below, the couple sitting on the ground and Hiwatari-kun standing before them.

She could not tell why he had come, but why should he interrupt the happy pair when she wanted so badly for someone to pay attention to her?

Wadding the foil in her hand, she stuck her tongue out at the trio, all satisfied to be without her. No longer caring for secrecy, she pinched the wrapper into a ball, then flicked it at Hiwatari-kun's head.

Not only did it fall appallingly off target, none of the three so much as paused their conversation. With a frustrated huff, she slunk away from the railing, a moue forming. While sulking was an art, it also happened to be a lonely one, and no matter how many times she told people she wished to be left alone, she only wished for them to try a little harder, to prove they wanted to be around her. How selfish.

But why, of all people, did she have to want Hiwatari-kun to be the one to try the most?

As she straightened her sister's room, removing all traces of her invasion, she managed to keep in stealth mode even with her uneasy thoughts. Regardless of how moody and neglected she felt, she could not, would not allow her jealousy to keep Hiwatari-kun from making friends with others. Besides, she could hardly expect herself to take preeminence over Niwa-kun, who had been the first person who gave Hiwatari-kun the time of day.

Still, she wished she could talk to Hiwatari-kun, tell him a little of how she felt, because he always listened—patient, insightful, and ever ready to help her when she needed it.

Scampering out of Riku's room and making for her own, she told herself to finish sulking and pretend nothing had happened, but a voice from behind froze her in her tracks.

"Were you trying to hit me, Harada-san?"

Torn between acting innocently bewildered or merely shocked at his presence, she spun around to face him, but one look at his blank expression set her laughing.

He was in for an earful.


	88. Chatroom

**A/N:** I'm not overly proud of this fellow here, but I'm to hard pressed in regards to time to try to polish further. Shame on me. I hope it is enjoyable anyway.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine. Nothing. I'm a very empty-handed sort of individual. Which is better for typing on a keyboard, I find.

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><p>Poking her head into her little sister's room, Riku called out in half a whine, "Risa, why—"<p>

With a startled squeak, Risa jolted upright, nearly sending her textbook toppling from the desk, then collapsed back into her chair. "Eeeh, Riku! You scared me. Knock next time."

"The door was open," Riku defended herself loftily, then reverted to the more important issue that had brought her upstairs. "But what happened to your phone? I was trying to call you when I was at the store."

"At the store?" Risa echoed, disinterested in the subject, and turned to the laptop beside her. "Why were you at the store?"

"Mom's out, remember? She asked me to make dinner," Riku explained with a shrug, stepping into the room. "I was going to ask your opinion, but you didn't answer the home phone and your cell went right to voicemail."

"I was hanging out with Ritsuko earlier, so I wasn't around. What did you get for dinner?"

"Stuff for motsunabe."

"Eeeeh?" Risa lurched again in her seat, then swung around on her twin. "Why did you choose _that_? It's disgusting!"

A little offended that her choice had been so violently rejected, Riku squared her shoulders and retorted, "Well, if you had your phone on, I could have asked and then we could have picked something for both of us. I didn't know what to get."

"But I _needed_ to turn my phone off," Risa whined, looking no small part martyred.

"To finish your homework?" Riku queried, not at all moved by the act.

"Eh..." Risa faltered a little, guilt showing slightly on her face. "Not exactly? I told Hiwatari-kun it was broken, so I had to keep it off to make sure no one called me."

For a moment, Riku tried to imagine what on earth Risa meant to accomplish by that, but quickly gave up, since following her sister's harebrained plots required more insanity than she possessed. "Risa, what are you doing to poor Hiwatari-kun this time?"

All guilt vanished as Risa drew herself up straight, her chin lifting. "I am insulted by your insinuation."

"Well, at least his vocabulary has rubbed off on you, if not his manners," Riku muttered, then shook her head wearily, accepting the bait. "So _why_ did you tell him that, Risa?"

"Because," she answered simply, turning back to her laptop. "I wanted to see him in a chatroom."

Not sure that she had heard correctly, she cocked an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"It's simple," Risa said, most patient and utterly annoying. "I asked him to help me with some homework to-day, but he had to go to his part-time job and couldn't come over here to help."

Interrupting the explanation, Riku raised the question, "He's not supposed to have a part-time job at his age, is he?"

"He's Hiwatari-kun. He doesn't follow 'supposed to's like a normal person," her sister replied, convinced, but then smirked deviously. "And that's also why I want him on the chatroom. I want to see him talk on there, but what I _really_ want to see is what name he'll pick."

"You did all of this just to see what name he would pick?" Riku asked, incredulous.

With a shrug, Risa leaned back in her chair. "Why not? It would be funny to see him in a chatroom anyway."

"I guess..." Riku mumbled, then leveled the other with a questioning look. "But _really_, Risa?"

"Yes, _really_, Riku," Risa replied as she rolled her eyes. "Do you want to stick around to watch or not?"

"What is there to see? I bet he'll just pick 'Hiwatari'."

"I thought he might do something super smart, or some clever word-play or something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Something about his name and blue, maybe?"

"Maybe he'll just go with 'Risa's Babysitter'."

Unimpressed, Risa shot her older sister a half glare. "As _if_ that is witty."

"I think it—eh, Risa. You have a notification," Riku said, pointing to the computer screen.

She whirled around to check the message waiting for her, but after a moment, her smile faded. "It's Hiwatari-kun."

Eyebrow lifting, Riku leaned forward to read the name, but found only a random set of numbers and letters. "What is that supposed to mean? Some... scientific equation?"

"No. It's the suggestion name that pops up where you can type a personal nickname. It's... it..." Risa explained, then threw her hands in the air, her frustration finally exploding. "He's lazy!"

"That was a lot of work for nothing, huh?" Riku commented, wisely keeping herself from smirking at the failed attempt.

"I cannot believe he was that _laaazy_," Risa wailed, kicking her heels into the floor. "All of that trouble—and eating _motsunabe_—and he didn't even do anything!"

"That's what you get for trying to trick him," Riku pointed out philosophically, too amused by the situation to offer pity.

Too cross to bother with the suggested lesson, Risa threw herself back into the chair, arms folded and lip jutting out at the laptop screen. Her sulking, however, did not last long, as an idea dawned on her and she sat forward, settling her hands over the keys while announcing, "I'll pretend I don't recognize him."

With a roll of her eyes, Riku turned to leave the room. "And there's proof that you never learn."


	89. Uncle

**A/N:** Oddly enough, the idea I came up with previously sort of reflected to-day. Not so oddly, this is rather slipshod as a result.

**Disclaimer:** Not even the ones in passing mention. Poor me. Empty-handed. All belong to Yukiru-sensei.

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><p>"Sawamura couldn't make up her mind, though, even when I told her that she should pick the black skirt, because the pink was too different. She can't be too obvious about trying to get his attention, you know?"<p>

"Mm," Satoshi hummed absently, eyes fixed on the laptop screen, refusing to fully acknowledge the girl sitting beside him on the bench. He did not recall how their conversation (or rather, her rambling monologue, interspersed with a few noncommittal responses from him when absolutely necessary) had shifted to clothing, as his attention remained undesirably divided between her meandering commentary on yesterday and his own efforts to compile a list of directions for Inspector Saehara, but he could not help but worry that her chattering in his ear would lead to unpleasant questions about what a frilled blouse had to do with perimeter defenses.

His hitherto subtle attempts to deflect Harada-san's attention from himself had met with failure, due to either her ignorance of or her outright disregard of his hints, leaving him subjected to her prattle as she wasted the small window of time he had to work during lunch break.

"Oh, and on the way back, we ran into Fukuda and _that_ meant—"

That meant only another half an hour of her digressing if he did not figure out how to send Harada-san on her way. Directly asking her to leave him alone rarely gained more than the occasional lecture about his needing to be more sociable, but he had to finish the instructions and she did not appear to have any plans to stop talking. Having the subject switch from her day to a lecture would not decrease his productivity very much, at least.

Without looking up from his computer screen, he said blandly, "Uncle."

She stopped mid-sentence, blinking in surprise at the unexpected interruption, then looked at him, nonplussed. "Uncle? Did I say something?"

"You said a good deal, yes, but that is not what I meant. Rather, you have resisted all of my hints, obvious or not, that I wish to be left alone. I concede to your impressive talent of ignoring me being too much to thwart by usual means—thus, I call uncle," he explained, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he lifted his gaze to hers. "Now may I have some peace to finish my work?"

After a moment of staring at him, she huffed a breath and stood, shaking her head as she did. "You could have just asked like a normal person, Hiwatari-kun."

She hung back only long enough to be sure he saw her roll her eyes, then she scampered off to find some other friend more inclined to talk to her.

Though she complied without causing any trouble, he found that his concentration did not much improve with her absence. A small smirk twitched the corner of his mouth as he scanned his progress, checking for mistakes that the renowned Hiwatari could hardly let slip.

After all, he never did anything like a normal person.


	90. Moon

**A/N:** This idea has been waiting and waiting on me to get around to writing it. I always had some kind of excuse, but that ended up turning out for the better, because my initial idea expanded into... well, this.

**Disclaimer:** No bunny ears here. Only an intense desire to play with her friends.

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><p>Already winded from her dash up the stairs, she struggled to keep quiet as she opened the door, hoping to avoid betraying her position in case anyone remained on the rooftop—she knew that Dark-san would already be gone, having soared off on his majestic wings into the night, evading the pursuit of both enemy and friend. Even though she had lost yet another chance to speak to him, she hoped that she could spot him somewhere in the sky, flying free and proud as ever.<p>

The hinges whined quietly as she eased them open further, but she hung back in the shadows of the building, dazzled a moment by the brilliant light cast by the waxing moon overhead, sharp contrast to the darkness of the museum passageways. Edging out onto the roof, she forgot a moment about her hope to catch a glimpse of the Phantom Thief, distracted by the eerie scene surrounding her. The noises from below seemed far away, unimportant, a mere hum in the stillness of the whitewashed world of the city's rooftops. Overhead, a few scattered stars peeped out around the luminous moon, but she saw no trace of her Thief against the wide expanse of indigo or moving about the silhouettes of distant buildings.

As she turned to leave the roof, she descried a slender figure standing perfectly still on a raised truss, face lifted toward the moon. Nearly gleaming in the pale light, thin and statuesque, his blue hair turned silver, he seemed to be no longer corporeal—only an illusion of some bittersweet memory passing away.

Inching forward slowly and holding her breath, as if she might blow him away otherwise, she stared at him in awe. Once before she had admitted to herself that he was beautiful, but she had never imagined how unearthly that beauty could seem, nor how wasted, like a reflection in the light, ready to fade away the moment the light disappeared and let all succumb to shadow.

How did he ever manage to look so strong, when now he stood, transparent under the pale moon, wholly defeated? Her whole heart ached at the sight, wanting somehow to reach him.

She stopped walking toward him, her uncertainty of what to say vanishing as she felt a piece of gravel turn beneath her shoe. Picking up the bit of rock, she watched him a moment longer, then flicked her missile at him. As it skittered across the roof beside him, he slung around in her direction, eyes flying open to pin her with his overpowering gaze. Pleased to have his usual intensity returned, she merely smiled brightly at him, swaying back and forth in her most innocent impression.

Her satisfaction drained away when she realized that he not only found the gravel she threw at him, but weighed it in his hand as he approached her, much like a cat stalking prey. Fully aware of the precision of his aim, she bolted with a squeak for the inside of the museum, hoping to find a hiding place. Before she could so much as reach the door, two strong hands closed around her wrists, crossing her arms in front of her and dragging her back. All instinct to fight vanished in bewilderment as he held her, resting his head against the side of her own. Low and calm, almost taunting, he said beside her ear, "Caught you."

She lurched away from him, almost stumbling over her feet, and only then realized that she could not pull her hands apart to help regain her balance. Still in shock, she stared at the handcuffs around her wrists, then looked up at him, stammering, "Hi-Hiwatari-kun!"

"You are trespassing and assaulted an officer," he informed her, opening the door and stepping back inside.

"Hiwatari-kun!" she gasped, eyes widening. "Don't you dare leave me like this!"

"You would make a terrible Phantom Thief."

Head spinning, she gaped after him, then stamped her foot. To think she had almost been ready to liken him to an angel. He was terrible.

"Get me out of these!" she demanded, flailing her cuffed hands. "Hiwatari-kun! Get me out!"

He reappeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame and smirking at her. "If you stop shouting, I might even escort you home."


	91. Beaker

**A/N:** I almost forgot about Father's Day, but managed to pull stuff together at the last minute. So with every sort of father in mind... I present this tribute.

**Disclaimer:** Only the chemicals involved.

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><p>"Hiwatari-kun, did you visit your father again?"<p>

Interrupted from measuring the chemicals in the beaker, he lifted an eyebrow at Harada-san, unsure of why she had brought the subject up in the middle of their lab but not about to inquire after her thought process. Females tended to be unexplainable and were best left to their own habits, unquestioned.

"You've just had that little... crease," she explained, jabbing her finger at the bridge of her nose. "Right here."

With a smirk, he turned back to analyzing the project they had been given—the same project that she happened to be ignoring. "Perhaps I am merely focusing."

"All day?" she asked, unimpressed with his suggestion, then leaned toward him conspiratorially. "Oh, I know what we should do."

"Our work?" he suggested to no avail.

"We should make you a father. With these," she said, picking up one of the bottles of chemicals on the table.

Before he could correct her assumption that they had the proper supplies to even consider forming a body, she started on a whimsical checklist as she rifled through the items for the experiment. "We would need gentleness and not too much interest in talking things out. Kindness is a definite plus—and consideration. You need someone less interested in bugging you, after all."

Kindly refraining from reminding her of her own habits of pestering him, he continued working on the science project, half listening as she rambled.

"A dad should be strong. Not afraid, either. Or easily afraid, anyway. Then... well, all dads need to know everything."

"Prerogative," he interjected wryly, earning a grin from her.

"I was thinking more like a prerequisite."

His eyebrows shot upward, then he nodded. "Good word."

"Thank you," she replied, smiling smugly, then went back to sorting through the bottles on the table. "Fathers should also be selfless."

Refraining from rolling his eyes, he started to record the measurements taken, saying as he did, "Quite the position to fill."

"Yeah," she drawled, then shrugged her shoulders. "I guess he'll just have to be like you, Hiwatari-kun."

Surprised, he glanced back at her, eyebrow rising, but she only smiled and stated, "You would make a great father."

After a moment of silently mulling over the words even Harada-san could not begin to understand, he returned to writing in his notebook, commenting blandly, "Ah. No wonder you offered to be my mother—you plan to concoct me in a laboratory."


	92. Starfish

**A/N:** Funny how I write about the beach right before a heatwave. If not for that heatwave, I would have highlighted Niwa's failed attempt at puppy eyes. Ah, the deadpan expression he earned in return...

**Disclaimer:** The starfish is mine. Yay.

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><p>Going to the beach with a group of people certainly did not suit his idea of how to properly spend a Saturday. While he had been cajoled into coming by the combined pleading of the Harada twins and Niwa, he had at least managed to keep strictly to his intention of not touching the water. To avoid being lectured for doing nothing, and coupled with the fact that watching people play for several hours proved monotonous even for one such as Satoshi Hiwatari, he had started building a sand castle. What had started as a simple plan to keep his hands occupied quickly grew into an elaborate design: high towers and domes rose several feet above the ground, pocketed with slender windows and arched doorways, and all across the finished surfaces he had carefully etched a faint pattern of stonework.<p>

"Hiwatari-kun, look what I found!"

Pausing his work on the lattice of the gate, he sat back on his heels and turned to look at the girl scampering toward him, careful to keep his eyes trained on her face. With the atmosphere already relaxed, Krad could make use of the idiotic invention of swimsuits to ruin the pleasure excursion to the beach, and Satoshi already had enough trouble trying to keep at bay his own desire to infuse life into his creation.

"What did you find?" he asked as she dropped down beside him, splattering him a little with the water dripping from her hair.

"A starfish," she told him, then shoved her catch at him with a grin. "Here."

He took the stiff creature from her and examined it briefly before offering it back. "Very nice."

With an inelegant snort, she pushed the starfish back toward him, chiding in amusement, "I didn't want you to praise my discovery, silly. It's for your castle."

"For the castle," he echoed, wary of the suggestion, but she took no notice.

"Yes! It would be good for decorating it... hmmm... here." She swept the starfish out of his hand, then shoved one of its arms into the top of the nearest turret. "How's that?"

After staring a moment at the random embellishment and the annoying displacement of sand, he looked back at her. "It is unsymmetrical."

"I can go find another one!" she offered, her spirits refusing to be dampened by his unenthusiastic response.

"There is no room in the design for starfish," he explained, removing the unwanted embellishment from the turret.

Crossing her arms, she leaned over toward him to nudge his side with her elbow. "You could use something spontaneous."

"Like chasing you back into the water so I can work in peace?" he suggested, gingerly smoothing the disturbed sand back into place.

"Or," she said, drawing out the word a little as she gave him a sideways glance, "you could use the starfish for a welcome mat."

Arching his eyebrow, he stared at her incredulously. "For a _castle_."

"It'd be spontane—"

"No."

"It _would_."

"Go back to the water before I chase you there."

"Yessir!"


	93. Glass

**A/N:** I hadn't gone so far as this yet and decided it was about time. Please enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine, but I can break and build as a will. How much fun is that?

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><p>Nothing could make Risa doubt Hiwatari-kun's strength. His endurance and fortitude had no equal and showed in everything he did. Every word, every glance, every movement proved his relentless valiance.<p>

Still, no one could stand forever against the world.

Some days, he looked like he might falter at last, crumbling to dust beneath a passing shadow. Despite having seen him weaken at times, despite recognizing his struggle, she had never expected she would ever see him fail before her very eyes.

"Hold on, Hiwatari-kun," she mumbled, throat painfully constricted. "I've called for help. They'll be here soon."

Save for his shallow breathing, he remained still and silent on the floor, unresponsive though the sound of her voice seemed unbearably loud in the quiet of his lonely apartment. Hand shaking, she pushed his soft, azure hair from his damp brow. Though she had removed his glasses, his eyelids veiled the keen blue of his eyes, hiding them from her and increasing her fright beyond the panic caused by his collapse. How odd that what most people who knew him called cold or distant was exactly what she longed to see for reassurance.

Two heavy drops rolled off her chin and landed on his pale cheek, but he did not stir, for once too far gone for her tears to reach him. How long had she counted on him to save her from the pain she felt, when she only knew a fraction of his agony?

She knew—she had known for so long—that locked away deep inside of him, a mere boy, dwelt unspeakable miseries, secrets he would not let her see, even as he took care of her, always.

At last, she had the chance to return the favour. Once in her life, she had the opportunity, the necessity, to be his strength when he had lost all of his own. She would take care of him.

If only it did not need to be so frightening.

"I'll take care of you," she promised, resting her trembling hand on his shoulder. Regardless of her own quivering, she felt him twitch beneath her fingers, as if his muscles still fought to drag him out of the dark oblivion in which he wandered. Why had he seemed so strong? As he lay there, helpless, he appeared to be no more than a waning light, flickering behind thin walls of a vitreous cage.

If only she knew what to do to help, she would do it at once, no matter the cost.

She bent over his supine form and cupped her hands around his face, trying to funnel her strength into him with mere words. "Satoshi Hiwatari, hold on. I'm going to save you."


	94. Gown

**A/N:** This is based off of the last arc in circulation, specifically the school dance. It doesn't deal with anything spoiler-y, except for my absolute disapproval of Riku's choice in dresses. I would have been so much happier if Risa had been in the dress Riku wore, let me tell you.

**Disclaimer:** Only my opinion is mine, but I feel it safe to say that Satoshi would agree with me, being inclined to the aesthetically pleasing.

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><p>"Is something wrong, Hiwatari-kun?"<p>

Though he knew that his frequent glances at her would not be entirely missed, a wry smile twisted at the corner of his mouth at her phrasing. She left herself open to any number of jests as well as gave him a perfect chance to dodge the reason behind why he had been staring. Not about to tell her the truth right away, he responded with the dry query, "Beyond the fact that I am at a party?"

"You didn't have to come, silly," she informed him, rolling her eyes as she scanned the crowd of students gathered for the Azumano Junior High costume ball.

Without any change in expression, he exhaled a quiet hum in the back of his throat, mentally disagreeing with her. She could not comprehend the desperate situation rapidly approaching, but he had sensed it for some time—every piece of the Hikari's artworks showed signs of strain, and at last, Kokuyoku itself began to grow unstable.

"But Hiwatari-kun, you keep glancing over at me." Her voice dragged him back to the conversation, but he had hardly looked over his shoulder at her before she brightened gleefully, demanding, "Do you want to dance?"

"No, Harada-san," he replied immediately, barely refraining from snorting at her assumption. "Definitely not."

"Don't be rude," she warned him, half scowling as she wagged her finger at him.

With a small smirk, he looked back over the clusters of cheerful, innocent students, then said in monotone, "I have no desire to dance. I am here to observe."

"You _always_ just observe."

His smirk grew a fraction. "It is a natural forte."

"Fine, be that way," she sighed dramatically, then stepped around in front of him as she tucked her hands behind her back. "But why were you observing me so much, then?"

Knowing she would not leave him be without an explanation, he answered bluntly, "Because, Harada-san. I disapprove of your choice in attire."

"Eeeh? It was supposed to be Riku's. What's wrong with it?" she asked in surprise, looking down at the striped dress she wore, then back at him.

He scanned the outfit again, silently ridiculing the choice of pearls for adornment around her neck and along the bodice itself, as Harada-san required elegant refinement—a requirement that the childish stripes of her dress and the apron-like piece over top did not achieve. For a self-proclaimed lady, she would benefit from solid colours and no more embellishment than a few bows; a halter finished with a small bow around her slender throat would provide everything necessary to set off her particular charms of subtle sweetness and grace.

After a small pause, he met her eyes. "You should have something purer."

"Pure? For _me_?" she giggled, unimpressed by his suggestion.

Unperturbed by her mirth, he remained steadfast in his decision. "Yes. Pure."

"Well, I like this dress," she said, patting the skirt fondly, a grin settling over her face.

"Which is good, as you are the one wearing it."

With another laugh, she announced, "You're silly, Hiwatari-kun."

Before he could answer, she turned around at a call from one of her other friends, then gave him a small wave. "I'll see you later. Try to have fun since you're here!"

As she scampered off to join her more amiable friends, his eyes trailed after her as he tried to picture her in more suitable attire.

"You would look better in something pure," he repeated in a murmur to himself, sliding his hands into his pockets and smiling faintly. "To look like an angel."


	95. Map

**A/N:** I was impressed how well these guys fit with the game. It's perfect for them. Or at least for Hiwatari-kun and the others being trounced. I'm sure they don't mind. Too much.

**Disclaimer:** Closest I've come to bunny ears is people sticking their hands behind my head in pictures. Somehow, people still think that's funny...

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><p>"Please, Hiwatari-kun. Please stop."<p>

"No."

"But you can't kill me."

"Harada-san, there is no need to be so dramatic."

"Yes there is! It's my only chance!"

"Your only chance passed long ago."

"Not if you don't kill me now."

"Oh, Risa," Riku interrupted, annoyed, "Just roll the dice!"

With a sigh, Risa swept the defender's dice from the table and shook them in her hand, staring dismally at the last cluster of her magenta pieces on the Risk board, hemmed in by a wall of blue wooden armies. Though Riku and Niwa-kun had allied themselves and kept Hiwatari-kun from taking mastery of Asia, she had been cut off from them early on and backed into South America, beaten back until she held only Argentina. Thanks to her sister and their red-haired friend distracting Hiwatari-kun, she had managed to survive for a few turns, but at last, Hiwatari-kun had reduced her forces to a mere five.

Before she dropped the dice to see if she could beat his roll of six, three, and one, she shot a glance at her twin. "You guys could have saved me, you know."

"We have enough trouble of our own," Riku replied calmly, not looking up from her efforts to stack her unused red cubes in a pyramid.

"But this is my only chance to play a game with you guys _and _Hiwatari-kun. I doubt it'll ever happen again!" Risa exclaimed, throwing her free hand in animated gesticulations to further convey her point.

"You're right," Hiwatari-kun interrupted, resting his laced hands on the edge of the table. "If you continue to drag out the inevitable, I will not be playing again."

"But will you ever agree to play again, either way?" she wheedled, turning pleading eyes to him.

"Of course he will, when there's world domination on the line," Niwa-kun piped up, then shrank down, blushing a little in embarrassment as he cleared his throat. "I mean, um, see..."

Ignoring Riku's sudden case of coughing, Hiwatari-kun tapped his finger on the tabletop. "Roll, Harada-san."

"Fine," she mumbled, spilling the dice, then let out a low moan and melted across the table. "You win both."

As he cleared away two of her pieces, she let out another sigh before smirking slightly. "Hiwatari-kun, ruling the world. That would probably be good for me, because I can get him to do whatever I want."

Riku's coughing started again, sounding suspiciously more like snickering than previously, but Hiwatari-kun kept his usual monotone as he replied easily, "Except for keeping me from annihilating you in Risk. Roll the dice again, Harada-san."

"Ha!" Riku burst, grabbing her boyfriend's arm to shake him instead of flailing enough to smack the table and jar the game. "Did you hear that? He practically admitted she's right!"

"I did not admit to anything of the sort," Hiwatari-kun said blandly, sparing a glance between Niwa-kun and Risa as he picked up the dice again, "only that I know which battles need to be fought. At the present, I am most interested in ending the game."


	96. Song

**A/N:** Took me a while to think of something new, then I got a nice line in my head and figured that would work wonders.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned these, I would be hounded night and day from dissatisfied fans. As it is, I get to relax and drink lemonade when not occupied with adding my own hounding.

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><p>Her heart lodged in her throat as the floor gave way beneath her foot, ending her run in a sprawl forward into a gaping hole. The tumble happened too quickly for her to catch hold of the sturdy ground surrounding the trap door or even to let out a scream as she plunged into the darkness, but before the dim light of the museum halls vanished entirely, something snagged on the back of her blouse, knocking the air out of her lungs. While holding as still as possible to keep from disturbing whatever had caught her, she craned her neck to peer behind herself, then let out a faint gasp.<p>

"You!"

Though shadow obscured his figure, she could distinguish the blue of his hair and the glint of light on his large glasses. Bending her head back a little further, she saw his hand latched firmly around her shirt, twisting the fabric to keep her from sliding free.

"Hiwatari-kun, how did you—" she began breathlessly, fighting the press on her lungs, but he shushed her, reaching down with his free hand.

"Now is not the time. Give me your hand," he ordered, edging forward slightly.

Grunting a little, she swung her hand to meet his, but only brushed past his fingers. After a moment of struggling to get her breath, she turned and stretched her hand again toward his. Warm fingers locked around hers, lifting her an inch out of the yawning shaft.

"I'll slip," she hissed, tightening her precarious hold on him. "Take my other hand."

"I would need to let go first," he warned her, only a fraction of strain in his voice, though he laboured to keep her from falling.

"You'll catch me," she responded, resolute, looking up at him steadily.

For a moment, he remained still and silent, then she felt the pressure from her shirt give way and her body dropped heavily again. Before the gasp broke from her lips, he caught the wrist of the hand he already held and, with a single, powerful tug, he brought her level with the ledge.

Scrambling inelegantly, she helped pull herself out of the trap with her free hand, then he picked her up and set her on her feet. Even in the faint light, she shrank away from his gaze, knowing the overpowering intensity of his blue eyes that undoubtedly bore down upon her.

"You will get yourself killed one of these days," he chided, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "What do you think you are doing?"

"I almost caught him," she replied simply, gesturing in the direction that Dark-san had gone, disappearing around a corner.

He regarded her a moment more before crossing his arms. "Yes. So did I."

Even though Hiwatari-kun worked for the police, through some unknown arrangement, to help capture Dark-san, she still felt a tinge of guilt for thwarting him in his chase—catching Dark-san meant something to him, more than merely catching a criminal or solving a puzzle. By being there, she had distracted him from succeeding to conquer some mysterious challenge.

"Sorry," she mumbled, ducking her head to look at her shoes. "I keep causing you trouble, don't I?"

His hand settled on her head briefly, then he said with the hint of a smile, "It is not yet time for your swan song, Harada-san. I could not allow for that so soon."


	97. Tree

**A/N:** I had so many options with this. Family tree, climbing a tree, planting a tree, things falling from a tree, even "deep roots are not reached by the frost." I decided to go with a Japanese proverb, however, thanks to the suggestion of my beta. Choosing between two good picks was hard.

**Disclaimer:** If my rights were in dispute, would I even be posting this as mere fanfiction?

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><p>"Please, Hiwatari-kun? It'll be a lot of fun if you come!" Risa pleaded hopefully, clasping her hands together as she stared up at him with her best puppy eyes.<p>

Wholly unaffected by her wheedling, he replied in his usual monotone, "You can have fun with the others there; I will not be going."

"But you just _have_ to—the pool party won't be any fun without you," she insisted, a small whine leaking into her tone.

Shooting her a sideways glance, he cocked an eyebrow and stated, "I have no intention to swim, let alone subject myself to any rambunctious behaviour that will occur. I have things to do."

Before she could form an argument, he nodded a brisk farewell, then strode on his way, leaving her to blink in surprise over his sudden withdrawal. "Wait, Hiwatari-kun! I wasn't finished!"

With a dismissive flick of his hand, he shook his head and continued onward, abandoning her to a rapidly forming moue. Huffing a sigh, she crossed her arms, then turned back to Ritsuko, offering apology in his place. "Sorry. He's so stubborn."

"I didn't expect him to come. He already said no," Ritsuko replied, shoulders slumping as the nervous tension, so often caused by close proximity to a certain, blue-haired student, drained out of her.

"He did, but I'll make him say yes," Risa laughed, her cheerful mood returning despite her disappointment.

Ritsuko shook her head, sighing. "I don't understand why you're always trying to include him in things. He doesn't want to hang out with us."

"Sure he does!" Risa interrupted, swiveling around to watch his retreating figure. While she did not understand the true nature of his self-inflicted seclusion, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hiwatari-kun wanted more than the life he had—and even if he would not give it to himself, she would force a bit of it onto him.

"Well, I still don't see why you keep bugging him about the pool party..." Ritsuko mumbled, stepping over to stand beside Risa. "You could give up, just this once."

"Give up?" Laughing, Risa turned to face her classmate. "Why would I give up on him? After all, by many little strokes, a large tree is felled."


	98. Flight

**A/N:** This story is dedicated especially to my reviewers, as Gamma Cavy gave the prompt for this week. Thanks for the fun word, and thanks to everyone who reads the story sprung from it and my others (and especial thanks to those who drop me notes). To those of you who review as guests, I'm grateful to you as well and am sorry that I cannot answer you directly.

**Disclaimer:** I am only a fan like the rest.

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><p>"Oh, look! It's Dark-san, right there!" Harada-san exclaimed, sitting up straight in the booth, then leaning out into the aisle to peer beyond Satoshi.<p>

His left eyebrow arching in surprise, he glanced over his shoulder to scan the faces of the others in the diner, puzzled as he could not sense the presence of Kokuyoku's other half. After a quick survey of the room, he noticed a television mounted in a far corner behind him, displaying a news reel from a few nights ago of the blasted Phantom Thief winging his way past the museum as he made off with yet another of the Hikari's artworks.

Satoshi returned his gaze to his bowl of soba, refusing to acknowledge the fascination radiating from the countenance of the girl seated across the table. While he had long since accepted the fact that he could not capture the renegade Phantom, he still found his fate with people entirely galling: the only two who had managed to make friends with him despite his inhibitions happened to be the host of the one thief he could never catch and the one girl who had given her whole heart unreservedly to the selfsame criminal.

Somehow, the irony seemed only to confirm his mother's warnings.

"Wouldn't it be something to be able to fly?" Harada-san piped up, her bright eyes turning to him and banishing his thoughts completely.

"That depends," he replied blankly, ignoring the mounting irony of the afternoon.

"Eh?" she said, somewhat bewildered by his response. "Depends on what?"

Hitching one shoulder in a shrug, he clarified, "On whether one has wings or is propelled by supernatural force."

Her face twitched slightly as amusement fought to display itself, but after a moment, she explained earnestly, "I think that wings would look most majestic—like Dark-san's. I would like to have wings so I could fly with him instead of being carried."

"The physical strain would be too great for you," he stated, lowering his hands to rest on his lap.

"What do you mean? If the wings were strong enough—"

"The wings are the least of your concern," he interjected with a firm shake of his head. "To keep a human's shape and have wings presents multiple problems: a remarkable amount of stress would be put on the spine and shoulder blades, and the muscles of the back would be displaced and strained, due in part to the pressure from squeezing in extra muscles, tendons, and perhaps bone structure. Consider also that human bodies are not meant to be aerodynamic—to fly at greater speeds and to be completely efficient in expending energy, the body would need to be parallel with the ground, which requires tremendous abdominal and leg strength."

As he fell silent, she blinked at him a few times, surprise mellowing into wonder on her face, then she gave a short laugh. "I guess I'll just stick to being carried, then."

"That sounds much more suited to you, yes," he agreed, lifting another bite of his meal to his mouth.

"I think I should hit you for that," she remarked blandly, her own attention returning to her food. "I'll let you off the hook this time, though."

Before he could thank her for her gracious allowance, she shot him a mischievous glance, a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. "After all, you did give me an interesting lesson on what it would be like to have wings."

Completely unruffled, he met her eyes and replied, "A simple matter of logic."

"Mmhmm. Of course. Logic." With a smile still hovering, she started eating again, her gaze trained downward.

He stared a moment, then smirked a little.

Maybe one day he could take her flying after all.


	99. Sword

**A/N:** This is why I prefer writing with just a set of male and female characters. My beloved pronouns, I apologize.

**Spoiler:** Nothing very big. This chapter deals with some notions from The Second Hand of Time arc, regarding Freedert, Elliot/The Wedge of Time, and The Second Hand of Time.

**Disclaimer:** What is the purpose of this line, anyway? No one expects to find the copyright holder on this site.

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><p>As he had sought the solitude of the school's rooftop for his lunch, Satoshi had obviated nearly all interruptions from classmates and teachers alike, but his refuge had long since been discovered, which often meant Niwa disturbed his peace and, of late, Harada-san did as well—though she did not enjoy climbing all the way to the roof, though he suspected that she also realized that he and Niwa never had much chance to interact together beyond their conversations during lunch break. Either way, both likely felt some form of responsibility to keep him company, despite his attempts to inform them of his desire for quiet. At least Harada-san pretended to believe he needed a break from people at school during lunch break, and Niwa knew how to keep conversations short.<p>

"Hey, Hiwatari-kun... I have a question."

Shifting his gaze from the remains of his bread to the boy sitting a few feet away, Satoshi quirked an eyebrow, mutely prompting Niwa to proceed.

Even with the invitation to continue, Niwa kept quiet and wriggled uncomfortably, not quite daring to meet the eyes trained on him. After a minute's hesitation, he finally offered weakly, "About... well, about the Second Hand of Time, and Elliot—well, the Wedge of Time."

That said, he glanced up at Satoshi, then drooped slightly as his meaning had not somehow been magically perceived. Taking a deep breath and clenching his lunch box in his hands, he ventured with a meek air, "I was just wondering why you sent Elliot back to Freedert."

Well aware of the tender subject Freedert presented to Niwa, Satoshi studied the boy in silence, trying to identify the reason and timing behind the question and how best to answer without aggravating old wounds. Much of his memory of that time lay in a haze of pain—the intense sorrow of the sword he had wielded against Dark, the emergence of Krad, having to carry Harada-san to safety, and then setting in motion the end of two artworks—and he had no desire to sort through any of the details, especially with one who had his own pain from the ordeal.

"I sealed both before they could do further damage," he stated finally, returning his attention to eating so he could have an occupation other than remembering.

Ignorant of his attempt, Niwa leaned forward and asked earnestly, "But only the Second Hand of Time was dying, right?"

Lingering over the bite he had taken, Satoshi delayed the inevitable confession briefly before replying simply, "Yes."

"So I was wondering..." Niwa said, his hesitation returning, "if maybe something convinced you to... reunite them."

"It was less trouble," Satoshi replied evenly, refusing to consider the question further than he already had in the darkened corners of his mind.

"You could have used the Wedge of Time, though. You did hurt Dark a lot—" Niwa began, but at the look Satoshi shot in his direction, he laughed and waved his hand a little. "No, no. He's asleep right now. I wanted to ask you this... when we wouldn't be overheard."

Lifting an eyebrow at the comment, Satoshi studied Niwa's expression a moment more, then turned his eyes to the sky overhead.

Innocence.

That had been the cause: the notion that one could hold on for so long, to try so hard, just for one last moment together before everything ended. An earnest, innocent desire to be with someone else, before darkness fell.

Perhaps he had wanted that chance as well.

"I sent him home," he murmured softly, then inhaled, deep and slow. With a shake of his head, he finished in his usual monotone, "It solved a present problem and one that would come eventually."

The silence following his comment lasted a few minutes before Niwa cautiously volunteered, "I just thought maybe you learned that sometimes... it's worth some pain to be together with the one you care about most."

As Satoshi looked back at him, Niwa offered a mellow smile and said, "She told me, before Dark got me out... '_No matter what happens, don't let go of the person you treasure the most._'"

As Satoshi made no move to answer, Niwa continued, solemnity permeating his countenance and voice, "I think maybe... Well, I thought you should know that's true for some people. Maybe even true for you... because in a lot of ways, Harada-san reminds me of Freedert. I think they would agree, about never letting go."

Rising to his feet, Niwa gave another small smile, then started to head for the door leading back into the school. When he reached for the doorknob, he paused and let out a sigh.

"If she ever learned your secret... She'd stick with you, Hiwatari-kun," he said, glancing over his shoulder, conviction hardening his features. "She won't care what it is you're hiding inside."

Once the door swung shut behind the boy, Satoshi tipped his head back, a sigh bleeding from his lips, and lifted his gaze to the distant blue sky traced with twisting wisps of white.

"I know."


	100. Hug

**A/N:** Here at last: Chapter One Hundred. Thank you everyone who has tagged along, thank you for everyone just hopping on board. I'm excited to have reached this point, and I saved a very special prompt for the occasion.

**Disclaimer:** I am only a fan, playing with another's creations.

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><p>Collapsed upon her knees, Risa stared between her trembling hands at the tiled floor, barely able to distinguish the seams between the stone in the distant light seeping into the museum's upper gallery. Alone, save for the company of ebony shadows lingering in the remote corners of the room, she fought to quiet her breathing and somehow stop the aching in her chest.<p>

He had left her.

Again.

Every black whisper of despair in her heart rose to quench the tattered remains of hopeful fancies, the dream she had chased for so long, till the fear overpowered her at long last with the insurmountable truth: she would never be able to do more than chase Dark-san in the vain wish that he might notice her unwavering efforts. Time and again, she would only be allowed the chance to watch him leave.

Why could she not convince him to stay near her?

His eyes had always held such sadness; she had been a fool to not see it at once—but she _had_ been a fool in the beginning, thinking that another person could meet all her desires and she had only to ask for that. He, too, possessed secret pains and fears deep inside, unspoken, untouched. Though she had started to chase him with the intention of him fixing her trifle problems and fulfilling the desire of her pride, she had come to realize that he was more than a fairy tale prince to suit her ideals—he was Dark-san, a being entirely independent of her, a person: beautiful, broken, and deserving of love.

She had hoped that she could atone for her previous ways and give him her heart to rely on when he decided he could trust her with his hidden grief. Long ago, she had forgotten the image of her perfect boyfriend and instead began to dream that she could rescue Dark-san from the loneliness he bore deep within, but all her efforts to prove she would never give up and never forsake him still ended with him leaving.

Finally, she understood that her chance to redeem herself, to save him never would come. He needed his freedom to exist; she had always been hopeless, whether she acknowledged the fact or not, because he could not be the Dark-san she cherished most if she tied him down to herself. He would never stay, never love her in return, and she would be left alone.

With a sharp sniff, she curled her fingers into her palms and told herself to go home. Dark-san was long gone and she needed to get back before someone missed her.

Before she could pull herself to her feet, a blinding stream of light poured into the room, spilling around her and shimmering painfully against the tears blurring her vision. Alarmed at the prospect of being found trespassing, she dashed the tears from her eyes, uselessly stammering some incoherent excuse, but when she glanced up again, her words faltered. Though his figure remained obscured by her tears and the shadow cast by the light behind him, she caught a glimpse of pale blue hair, familiar and ethereal at once, and her lungs contracted. Voice cracking slightly, she murmured, "Hiwatari-kun..."

As he crossed the room to her side, she tried to gather the few fragments of her will that remained so she could smile and explain, but every word vanished as he knelt beside her and pulled her against him, fitting his arms around her securely. For a single moment, she faltered in bewilderment, then felt still more tears surge to her eyes. Burying her face against him, she clutched his shirt, letting her fear and hurt dissolve in a flood upon his shoulder.

No, she would not be alone.


	101. Candle

**A/N:** The prompt put me in mind of my Candlelight poem (that still needs a lot of revision) and so I could not help but keep to the same theme here. It came to me that this would be a great prompt to use for the reverse of my previous chapter. I really couldn't help myself. So please, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** The only thing I own is my enjoyment in playing with the toys of another.

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><p>Everything had proceeded as expected down to the last detail, from Dark outwitting the posted guards and disarming the locks to him shouting a final gloat over his shoulder as he winged homeward with another prize.<p>

Everything had happened as usual—save that Harada-san had not appeared on the rooftop to catch a final glimpse of the Thief and his majestic departure.

Since Dark had kept to an easier route well out of view of most surveillance cameras, instead of the fastest escape, Satoshi knew Harada-san had been trailing the thief. Over the past few thefts, she had come without fail, slipping past security to meet her Phantom Thief, and he had no doubt that she had done so again.

Satoshi had lingered on the roof to meet her and see her safely back out of the museum, but she had not emerged from the building, and though most of the traps in the museum itself had been dismantled, he could not help but worry that in her earnest chase, she had fallen prey to one of the remaining devices, ensnaring or injuring her.

Retracing Dark's path through the building and turning on lights as he went, Satoshi checked every room methodically, as swiftly as he could without overlooking any detail that might hint at her location. Her tenacity would not have allowed her to simply turn around and go home, not unless Dark had sent her away—but how could he? Not even Dark, twisted and recessed as he had become, could resist hovering around the light that she presented. She would never be able to fix the black despair in which they lived and breathed, but with the radiance of her soul, with warmth like a flame, she drew both Dark and himself into the enchantment of her luminosity, as to a solitary candle in a shadowed world.

Wherever she was, he would find her.

Before he quit yet another hallway, a tiny sound from a nearby gallery caught his attention and without hesitation he strode to the room and threw open the door. Harada-san, kneeling on the floor, started at the sudden light that washed over her, then began to stammer a hurried attempt at an excuse, words nigh incoherent against the raw tremor thickening her voice. His fingers slowly curled into fists as he stared at the glint reflecting from the tears pooled in her eyes. What had the blasted Phantom Thief done?

"Hiwatari-kun," she murmured, voice choking slightly.

The name had hardly been uttered before he dropped to his knees beside her and pulled her over to rest against him, encircling her in his arms. When she pressed her face against his shoulder, clutching the back of his shirt, he lowered his head to rest beside hers and forced back the whisper of reason warning him away.

Come what may, he would never let her cry alone.


	102. Bleach

**A/N:** This is another prompt suggested by a reviewer (I believe Lady Fai, but I cannot recall absolutely). This prompt, however, has enabled me to employ my theories about DNAngel's characters' cleaning habits. Yes, I have theories, based on information found in the manga. Yes, I'm addicted.

**Disclaimer:** I study canon, not possess it.

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><p>Over the course of his friendship with Harada-san, Satoshi had grown accustomed to opening his front door following her unmistakable, insistent knock, but still he had never expected find her standing on his doorstep, armed with a bucket of cleaning supplies, a duster tucked under her arm, and her hair held back with a tie-dye bandana.<p>

"Good morning, Hiwatari-kun," she chirruped, bending over to pick up a gallon-sized container she had set beside her to free her one hand in order to knock. "Don't worry—I'm not here to disturb you."

"You failed," he replied dryly, eying her gear with skepticism. "What are you doing?"

Unaffected by his brusque greeting, she hefted her assortment of supplies to display to him. "Well, you've been so busy all month long, I figured you must have been cleaning even less than normal—which is basically not at all, right? So I decided I could come by and help out!" Without waiting for him to respond, she squeezed past him into the entryway. "You can keep right on working, though. I won't bother you."

Still surveying her assembled materials warily, he gestured to the container she carried, almost not wanting to know the answer to his question. "What are you planning to do with the bleach?"

Pausing her attempt to push her shoes off her feet, she glanced at the container in her right hand, then back at him with a shrug. "Oh, Mom uses it in the water closet. I think she just pours it right into the tub."

"Thank you for your consideration," he said in monotone, taking her elbow to usher her out of the door. "Please have a pleasant walk back home."

"Wait, Hiwatari-kun!" she exclaimed, fighting to keep her ground. "I just lugged all of this stuff over here—I've been planning it for ages—I even got Riku to lend me her bandana!"

"All of which must be of highest recommendation, I am certain," he countered, edging her back outside despite her struggles, "but I will clean my apartment myself. Later."

Before he could shut the door, she lifted large, pleading eyes to his, regardless of the unfair nature of such an action, and murmured beseechingly, "Please, Hiwatari-kun. I want to be able to do this for you. Let me clean for at least a little."

Holding a sigh in check, he stared at the pitiful picture she presented and wondered how, even against his better judgment, she always managed to get her way.


	103. Cheesecake

**A/N:** A special guest-star chapter to help close the end of another year. She may not be my strong suit, but I couldn't help but ask for her opinion on them.

**Disclaimer:** None of it is mine. I sit and play and wish I had a vending machine, too.

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><p>Though Riku had been in a sour mood due to Niwa-kun unexpectedly backing out of walking her home, she could not maintain her exasperation thanks to her sister. To be strictly accurate, the improvement in Riku's mood could not be attributed solely to Risa, as the subtle gibes of a certain blue-haired individual played a large part, too.<p>

Why her younger sister put up with Hiwatari-kun's frequent mocking befuddled Riku, but it pleased her nonetheless. Hiwatari-kun had slowly begun to work a change in the younger Harada twin: ever since the two had started to frequently spend time together, Risa had shown signs of rapid maturing in addition to—thank heavens—staking less importance on the perverted Phantom Thief, Dark. Hiwatari-kun's calmness and intelligence did Risa much good, but his sardonic wit also amused Riku on the occasions she saw him with her sister. Though she could never quite place why, he always seemed to thaw a little when around Risa, as if he dropped an imperceptible wall of ice for her and her alone.

Even a reclusive genius could have a weakness for a pretty face.

Still, even though the way he treated her sister did not seem like the normal, rigidly polite Hiwatari-kun, Riku could not decide if his actions came from friendship or flirtation. Whatever the case, he could hardly be blamed for his behaviour, since Risa always sought him out and left herself wide open for more of his taunts, even if half of those times she scolded him for his attitude.

Having the chance to walk home with them, however, reminded Riku that Hiwatari-kun could speak more than rare, monosyllabic responses and could even show actual traces of humour. Somehow, the fact that he never laughed and rarely even smiled, coupled with Risa's fluctuating, overt emotions, made all his teasing twice as amusing.

"Hiwatari-kun, you're vexatious," Risa reproved, dragging Riku's attention back to the immediate conversation.

Without any hesitation, he replied with a bland, "Thank you for pointing that out to me."

"If you don't stop it, I'll play the stress-test game with you," she warned him, crossing her arms and trying, apparently, to appear imposing.

"Would that not require my agreement to play?" he inquired, unaffected by her threat.

"Not really," she said, lifting a hand to wave idly. "The point is just to pester the other person until they concede."

"I do not see the reason behind such a game," he remarked, sounding almost reflective.

"It's fun. We should try it," she stated, smirking slightly, confident that she had won some ground.

"We already do," he answered easily, then lifted an eyebrow at her confused glance before elaborating, "Whenever you spend time with me, I find myself submitted to that sort of contest."

"Hiwatari-kun!" she gasped, spinning toward him and throwing her hands in the air as if she could better express her offense by flailing them in his face. "That's so rude! You have to pay me back."

"Do I?" he queried dryly, leaning away slightly to avoid being smacked.

"Yes," she insisted, dropping her hands to her sides as she assumed a much more austere air to help convey her point. "You owe me cheesecake."

His eyebrow rose further as he echoed dubiously, "Cheesecake."

"Or else I'll stop playing the game and then what?"

"Then I will have peace and quiet," he stated at once, unruffled.

"Exactly," she agreed with a decisive nod. "I like chocolate-topped cheesecake most."

Riku, struggling to hide her mirth, rolled her eyes to the sky. Sometimes she wondered how Hiwatari-kun appreciated being a vending machine. Still, she could sometimes spot his hidden smiles, and Risa's own fondness for him would radiate through any temper he could induce. Against all expectations, those two had found something special.


	104. Anachronism

**A/N:** To-day, I have a twofold announcement. One, it is the second year anniversary of this story, which has me very much pleased. My little pet has grown into quite the big series. However, though I am proud of it, I still find myself with a very busy schedule on my hands and am forced to admit that I need to divide my attention differently than hitherto. That means, starting with this chapter:

**Interesting Developments** will be updated every other Monday starting now. As a year is composed of a delightful fifty two weeks and the alphabet helpfully contains twenty-six letters, I am going to be plowing my way through alphabetized prompts. How exciting.

**Disclaimer:** If I could make money off of this venture, I would be already and I could continue weekly until my time of death. Obviously, this is not the case, so no one ought to be assuming I have any rights here.

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><p>Captivated with awe, Risa surveyed the museum's newest display: a life-size statue carved from pearly white marble into a woman with her head bowed to weep over the flowers draped across her lap. Despite the delicate sculpting and the luminosity of the polished marble, the masterpiece's beauty did not draw her so much as the seeming power, remote and quiet, indwelling the figure—something stronger, more compelling, and deeply unnerving emanated from the bent head and frozen posture, overwhelming the mastery of its form with a haunting question.<p>

"You feel it."

Jerking back from the velvet ropes separating her from the exhibit, she slew around and gasped, "Hiwatari-kun!"

Unaffected by her alarm, he surveyed her face calmly before looking at the sculpture. His slow, methodical movements almost proved comforting to her after studying the eldritch statue alone, but the surprise he caused by both his sudden appearance and his words prompted her uneasy query, "What do you mean?"

"You can feel it," he repeated, attention trained on the statue. "The awakening."

Hesitating a minute over the precise meaning of his words, she glanced at the statue, then back at him before venturing meekly, "I feel like I'm being watched by... something not quite right."

"'Not quite right'," he echoed, near a whisper, and shifted his eyes to meet hers. "Or something that should have stayed asleep."

Her desire to hide behind him increasing beneath his steady gaze, she leaned forward and asked, voice reflecting her growing wonder, "What is it?"

After a slight pause, he murmured in answer, "Something from long ago. Something that should be at rest."

"Why isn't it?" she breathed, gaze riveted on him, willing him to continue. She hardly dared hope that he might finally tell her what she had long waited to hear—even if only a fragment of an answer to the enigma of his very being, a clue to help her unveil the mystery shrouding Satoshi Hiwatari. Though she did not understand the hints that tied him to Dark-san, to the police, or to the strange events occurring around her, she believed that the answer would be found in the riddle of the artworks themselves—that his secrets, long buried, taunting her endlessly, would be revealed if only he would tell her what made the art come alive.

Slowly, he lifted his hand toward the sculpture, fingers stretching out as if to claim the whispering pulse of power issuing from it. "That answer lies in a story... an old story. One that should remain in the past, but cannot."

"What is it, Hiwatari-kun?" she begged breathlessly, but her use of the name itself appeared to dissolve his trance and his hand dropped limply to his side, her hopes falling alongside.

"No..." he sighed, then gave her a slight smile that reflected again for an instance her greatest hint and haunting fear: a shadow of unfathomable, abiding pain.

Stepping past her, he lowered his head to hide his expression. "An old story, Harada-san, is not always fit to tell."


	105. Basement

**A/N:** As much as I love this piece (even with it being tiny), I should not have waited until the last day to edit it. You think with two weeks, I would be more on top of things.

**Disclaimer:** All of this is based on supposition of the art given by Yukiru-sensei, particularly Volume 7, Chapter 26: Second Hand of Time Volume 4.

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><p>Distorted shadows loomed around the dim candlelight as he descended the stone staircase into the aphotic crypt. His footfalls, though slow and steady, disturbed the long silence of the hidden cavern, the echoes of his movements rippling through the expanse as if to herald his approach toward the innermost chamber.<p>

As he neared his destination, the oppression in the air increased with the sensation of misery that emanated from behind the towering double doors, a fragile barrier against the stygian secret of his lineage.

She wished to know, did she?

With a prolonged moan from the stiff hinges, the door gave way beneath his hand to reveal the inner chamber of the vault, the frail light he held casting a faint halo inside and glinting on the broken chains strewn across the floor. Silently, he surveyed the damage to the chains still crisscrossing the enormous canvas, then walked gravely into the room, his candle's quivering glow unable to dispel the deep gloom of the sepulcher or illuminate its sole captive.

Before him stood the answer she sought, a cloaked menace even she could not foresee or comprehend, not for all of her fancies and perceptive conjectures—but still, so much hung on the balance, and she had placed herself in the middle of all, taking onto her shoulders the fate of those beyond herself. For good or ill, she would establish the destinies of many before the end, but he could not let her do more than guess.

He could not take her into the dark to behold a monster.


	106. Catalyst

**A/N:** I realized after I wrote this that the prompt word had actually been Cataclysm. Oops? I had fun anyway, with this one.

**Disclaimer:** If it were mine, I think we can call agree that there would be a lot more SatoRisa moments in canon.

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><p>"It's too quiet."<p>

His pen stilled as the comment broke his concentration and Satoshi shifted his gaze from the spread of books on the coffee table to meet the eyes of the girl sprawled across his living room floor. She, having succeeded in gaining his attention, lifted her chin from her overlapped hands and smiled hopefully at him, but he ignored the action and instead bent over the table to return to writing. "I enjoy the quiet."

"That's because you're Hiwatari-kun," Harada-san replied as she pushed herself upright to sit on her heels, regarding him askance from under lowered eyelids. "Excitement is good for you."

"In small doses," he agreed and finished jotting a note before glancing at her again. "Quiet is better for research."

"I've had enough research," she moaned, punctuating her point by throwing herself back across the floor, to all appearances perfectly miserable. "I've been studying for the past two hours."

"Good for you," he said dryly, unmoved by her theatrics, and began recording figures on a new line in the notebook.

"Hiwatari-kuuuun," she whined, pulling her abandoned textbook back toward herself only to slam it shut, "come on—let's do something fun."

Without sparing her a glance, he brushed aside her request with a dismissive, "After I finish this."

"You'll take another three hours," she accused him, shoving her textbook across the floor to collide with his sock-clad foot.

Though he lifted his leg to avoid the missile aimed at him, he did not look up from his notebook. "Or however long it would require for you to become bored enough to leave me alone."

Groaning at her twofold failure, she rolled onto her back, then released a sigh as she resorted to trailing her fingers through her hair to occupy her hands rather than resume her studies. Hardly a minute passed, however, before she shot upright and fixed her eyes on him, announcing, "You need a catalyst."

Pen halting mid-sentence, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, his left eyebrow quirking upwards.

"Yes, that's it," she declared and crossed her arms, nodding decidedly. "I'll give you so much caffeine that you won't be able to sit still."

His eyebrow arched further at her implausible suggestion, and though he did not say a word, her triumphant expression faded to one of wary indecision.

"No, never mind," she said, dropping her hands to rest on the floor behind herself. "Seeing you hyper would be scary."

"Indubitably," he concurred, graciously neglecting to pick apart her faulty plan.

With a sigh, she lowered herself to the ground again in front of her composition book, ignoring her notes in favour of fanning the corner of the pages.

A solitary minute of peace elapsed before she tired of her occupation and moaned, "Hiwatari-kun..."

"Yes?"

"It's too quiet."


	107. Dichotomy

**A/N:** This chapter deals with the Agentine and Insomnia arcs in full, but nothing is directly addressed as spoilers. The beautiful prompt word led to an interesting sort of fruition, I must say...

**Disclaimer:** I only fiddle with the poetry of this pair.

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><p>Trailing wisps of ragged clouds dispersed the moonlight on her bedroom floor, the darkness gliding constantly through the soft beams. Always, before the shadows wholly overwhelmed the light, the sky cleared in a moment of resplendent beauty, illuminating the hushed room in a flood of silver, but the dark clouds invariably obscured the moon again.<p>

Releasing a sigh, Risa turned her face away from the balcony windows and draped her arm over her eyes. Though exhausted, she could not quiet her mind long enough to fall asleep and escape the disturbing thoughts and poignant memories that haunted her long into the morning.

"_Who... are you?_"

Frustrated by the recurring question, she thrashed a little against the blanket covering her legs, then rolled over to bury her face in her pillow. Of all the worries that surfaced in the night hours, depriving her of sleep, she hated most the constant return of the enigma presented by the White Wings. Regardless of the many times she told herself she did not care, the riddle continued to resurface in her mind each night she could not escape the loneliness of her own room to the sanctuary of unconcerned dreams.

Why did he have to be so unsettling? He frightened her, much like Insomnia had, but something deeper concealed itself inside him, something that she could not ignore.

Why did she have to care about him?

Before, she had tried to console herself with the belief that she wondered about him because he reminded her of Dark-san. His breathtaking wings and unnatural hair resembled the Phantom Thief's enough that the two seemed akin, but more than that, their auras matched in an unfathomable way. Though she had experienced a similar feeling with Argentine, only the White Wings radiated the same sensation of despair and longing that she felt in Dark-san, an almost tangible hunger for something unattainable.

Why, then, could she not dismiss him from her mind? Why, when they had barely met, did his memory pursue her through sleepless nights and remind her unfailingly, through whispers of her own heart, that she feared the coming revelation?

Pushing her doubt out of mind, Risa threw off the covers and slipped out of bed, but paused as her eyes rested again on the shadows snaking across the moonlit floor, black struggling against white. With a deep inhale, she hurried forward and opened the balcony doors, stepping out into the cold.

Though she knew Satoshi would not appear again to help solve the struggle she faced, she lingered on the balcony, pacing as she rubbed her arms to keep warm. For a minute, she watched the clouds drifting across the moon, then looked around herself and whispered on a breath, "I know you're not here..."

Pausing in front of the doors, she closed her eyes and lowered her head. "And I know that you only meant to help when I was trapped in the mirror, but... but I need your help, and..."

After a moment's silence, she looked around the empty balcony, a faint smile twitching her mouth as she murmured, "And I'm still thinking of you, Hiwatari-kun."


	108. Evolution

**A/N:** I've been waiting to do this one for a while. It jumped into my head one day and I could hardly help but develop a logical belief for Hiwatari-kun based on his rearing and his application of knowledge. So much fun. It was great, too, that his opinion came out fairly close to mine.

**Disclaimer:** The characters are not mine, nor the theory discussed.

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><p>Despite his awareness that the invitation to join Harada-san in browsing the local bookstore stemmed solely from her desire for company, he appreciated the excuse to leave his work behind for a few hours in favour of referencing a few texts he did not yet own—even though an excursion with her meant exposure to random questions or commentary.<p>

"Hiwatari-kun, what do you think of evolution?"

Arching an eyebrow, he glanced across the aisle at Harada-san, who stood in front of a shelf of science books, a black hardcover lying open in her hands.

She lifted her gaze to meet his, then snapped the book shut to wave it in a lazy circle at him. "You like scientific things, right? Do you believe we all evolved from... stuff?"

Politely ignoring her less than eloquent exposition, he pushed his glasses to rest higher on the bridge of his nose as he commented, "Being inclined to the scientific has nothing to do with that theory."

"Eh? But..." she began, confused, then looked down at the volume she held.

"The theory of evolution is not scientific by definition; science demands a systematic comparison, the observation of a start and later results, which is currently impossible with evolution," he explained, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

After processing his words, she peeked up at him meekly. "So it's not true?"

"I did not say that—only that it is a mistake to reference it as scientific," he replied with a shake of his head, then returned to browsing the shelf.

"So if not evolution, what do you believe?" she asked, too curious to let the matter rest.

Remaining quiet as he contemplated her question, he stroked his fingers over the curved book spines, then turned to face her with a vague smirk, answering, "I believe that all beauty finds its origin in a creator, and that life is more than a summation of parts."

Her expression, matching his in wryness, gave him no hint as to whether she grasped the full import of his meaning, and she responded, tone nigh teasing, "Beauty is opinionated."

"So is belief," he countered as he returned his attention to the titles on the shelf before him.

"Your opinion is very unscientific," she volunteered after a moment, stepping closer to him and cocking her head as she tucked her hands behind her back.

Shrugging once more, he agreed dryly, "It holds very little weight, at least."

"At least it's beautiful, in its own way," she replied with a warm smile, an almost fond regard showing in her eyes.

He glanced away, his smirk firmly in place. "Opinion."


	109. Fermentation

**A/N:** I did another small one, but I couldn't help it. When I realized fermentation could mean "agitation; excitement" I had to give this little manga-based scene a shot: what might have gone through Risa's head after she ran away from Riku after saying Insomnia scared her.

**Disclaimer:** I only make speculations about what could be, not determine what is.

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><p>"Risa! Wait up! Hold on!"<p>

Rounding the corner without heed of her sister's cries, Risa dodged a few startled tourists browsing the museum as she looked for some sign of where Hiwatari-kun had gone. Regardless of the walls separating her from _Insomnia_, the impression of a dark foreboding remained, as if a ruthless presence lingered behind the glass, watching, waiting for the moment to spring. She could not justify the fear caused by a mere door, cunningly designed or not, but she still wanted to find somewhere far away from it.

As often as he had shown his appreciation of artworks, even Hiwatari-kun had said that disposing of _Insomnia_ would be the prudent thing to do, the appropriate course. His opinion seemed only to verify her revulsion, but she did not want to confirm that he too felt a sense of danger as much as she wanted to simply find him. Even if she could not bring herself to ask him what he had truly meant, she felt certain that seeing him would help dispel her agitation. Somehow, she knew that he understood what was happening and, more importantly, she knew he would never let anything bad happen to her.

She just needed to see him, if only for a moment. Then everything would be all right.


	110. Garrulity

**A/N:** As opposed to the name, I have nothing to say but that I hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine—except the bench. The bench and I are friends.

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><p>For the days when Harada-san refused to keep quiet for any longer than the span of ten seconds, Satoshi had devised a method of half-listening which depended largely upon his ability to absorb enough information from her yammering that he could time appropriate nods and thoughtful grunts or monosyllabic responses, thus sating her desire for companionship without any damage to his sanity. He could typically manage whole chapters of uninterrupted reading or settle the numerous details of planning against Dark's thefts without her catching on to his lack of attention.<p>

Still, regardless of his constant attempts to perfect that system, some days she refused to be fooled.

"I wish you would talk to me, Hiwatari-kun," she said with a sigh, her appealing and pathetic voice interrupting his reflection, but he dared not allow himself to be trapped by the doe eyes he knew she had turned upon him.

"Why do I need to talk?" he asked, skimming the last few words on the page before turning to the next. "I would think you would appreciate less interruptions."

"It's nice when you tell me your opinions and feelings," she replied, slouching against the bench where they had retreated to wait out the lunch break, but at a quirk from his right eyebrow, she straightened and corrected her assertion, "Well, your opinions."

"Hm."

Crossing her arms, she huffed at his attempt to return to his previous occupation. "You know, Hiwatari-kun, I dreamed the other night that you were a chatterbox. You never stopped talking the whole dream."

At that statement, he glanced up at her, his eyebrows lifting in surprise as he said, "Such a dream would be odd."

She met his gaze unwaveringly for only half a minute before she leaned back against the bench and rolled her eyes, confessing, "Okay, no. I made that up. I don't think I have enough imagination to dream about you being able to talk that long. It's just too im—" She caught herself and shot him a hasty glance, then finished hopefully, "... farfetched?"

Smirking, he looked back down at the book in his hands as he said, "I meant it was odd that you would have dreamed of me at all, but as you will."


	111. Halation

**A/N:** This chapter taught me a new word and I am thus quite glad I was given this term to work into the H chapter. Here is my gift to you all, little as it is, and I hope that you all enjoy the holidays. (Also, I'm tickled that this is the one-hundred and eleventh chapter. Here's to you, Bilbo, and I'm on my way to one gross.)

**Disclaimer:** I don't even own a camera to be able to claim that, but if someone wants to get me a camera to fix that, I admit that'd be pretty cool. I'd be grateful.

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><p>Since Hiwatari-kun refused to heed the beauty of Christmas lights, regardless of their obvious aesthetic (and occasionally artistic) charm, Risa had no choice but to drag him along with her on an impromptu photo-shoot throughout Azumano. They ended their trip in a convenience store to develop the film and she peppered him with questions about anything and everything until she received the stack of glossy photographs that marked the success of her self-imposed scavenger hunt.<p>

Unable to contain her pleasure as she sifted through the pictures, she announced cheerily to her companion, "They turned out so well!"

Decidedly less impressed than she, Hiwatari-kun glanced at the pictures and made a noncommittal hum in the back of his throat, but she, too well adapted to his behaviour to be dispirited, ignored his lack of enthusiasm and went back to sorting through the pictures as she walked toward the front of the store. "They look better than I expected—oh, and look at this one! See, I almost got you smiling."

That announcement caught his attention and he leaned over to examine the indicated photo, only to remark dryly, "That is not a smile, Harada-san."

"Well, if you look at the glare from the lens, you can almost see one," she replied with a shrug, then tipped the picture downward, narrowing her eyes. "Maybe if you squint..."

"You are mocking me," he said blandly, rolling his eyes.

"Why would I be mocking you, Hiwatari-kun?" she laughed, then puffed out her chest, drawing her chin inward as she intoned gruffly, "You are unmockable."

"I am able to be mocked, regardless of whether it affects me," he countered, opening the door to the snowy outside world, then turned around to shoot her a smirk, "and 'unmockable' is not a word."

Wrinkling her nose at him as she stepped out of the building, she smothered a grin and explained, "The best way to mock you is to hurt your intelligence."

Since he only smirked again instead of continuing the conversation, she resorted to shuffling through the rest of her pictures, but stopped with a little gasp before she reached the end. "Aaah, this one! It's so pretty."

"If you say so," he conceded without so much as a glance at the photograph.

"I do!" she exclaimed, too delighted with her unintentional skill with the camera to care. "Just look at it—all the lights are glow-y and nice so they stand out against the fuzzy background..."

"Halation."

His interjection halted the rest of her gushing long enough for her to shoot him a confused glance. "What?"

"You mean to say 'halation'," he elaborated without any effort to clarify.

"No, I do not mean to say halation," she replied, hitching her shoulders in a shrug and turning her nose upward and away from him, "because I have no idea what that is. I have to know what it is to mean to say that."

Though she did not look back at him, she could hear his smirk conveyed in his tone. "The effect you are trying to describe is termed 'halation'."

"Okay, halation, then," she said, shooting him a smile and waving the photo at him. "The halation is pretty. This is the best picture."

"If you say so," he repeated, sticking his hands into his coat pockets.

She nodded once, then went back to admiring the shot. "I do. It makes me think of you."

"Me?" he echoed, surprised enough that confusion bled into his tone.

"Yes, you," she laughed, glancing up at him, her smile quirking some as she wondered if he knew how much she could see of him.

Him and his white shadow.


	112. Isochrony

**A/N:** Rainy days are lovely inspiration. So much potential stored in the beautiful sound and aura... But then FanFiction decides that it doesn't want me posting on Monday and gives me an error page every time I try to open up the page necessary to post a new chapter. I apologize for missing the deadline, but it was technical difficulties. That gives me some grace, yes?

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine, I only play with the toys of a contemporary.

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><p>Hiwatari-kun shifted in his reclined position on the couch, tipping his book a little toward the living room window to catch what light came through the grey clouds shielding the sky. Outside, the steady rain that fell against the Harada house created a pattering thrum, maintaining the tranquil stillness that pervaded the late Sunday afternoon, and lulled his constant anxiety into a quietude befitting the lazy atmosphere. Even Harada-san had fallen prey to the subduing weather, her silence extending nigh onto an hour as she lay on the floor, her gaze lackadaisically roaming the knots showing in the wood, but his small movement drew her attention and prompted her to speak at last.<p>

"What are you doing right now?"

"Reading," he replied without hesitation, corroborating his answer by lifting the page he would need to turn in a moment.

"No, I mean..." she began, then exhaled as she slid a hand under her cheek to pillow her head. "I mean that you're sitting over there right now, and that's... That's not what I'm doing."

Lifting his eyes from the page, he took a moment to process the statement before asking, wry, "Does this revelation surprise you?"

"I didn't mean _that_," she sighed in exasperation, then propped herself up on her elbows. "I meant... Well, for example, you're here a lot, at my house. More than other places, except for school and your apartment—and maybe the museum, I suppose, and maybe the store—"

"Harada-san," he interrupted, tone blank.

"Yes?" she said, eyebrows lifting in meek anticipation.

"To the point."

Sheepish, she resumed her explanation as best she could. "So I was just thinking that you'll never see this house the way I see it. You'll never get to... experience what I do, just sitting in this room, because... because you're completely different from me."

"My own person, you mean?" he ventured, closing the book over his finger to keep his place.

Hitching her shoulders in a shrug, she twisted her mouth and lowered her eyebrows as she processed his comment. "Sort of, yes, but... More than that, I... No, not more. Just that I haven't thought of it meaning all that it does."

He lifted an eyebrow, confused by her conclusion, and she threw herself prostrate again, groaning against the floor, "I don't have words for it!"

"Try anyway," he prompted, his mouth twitching a little in a smirk as he observed her.

At his encouragement, she released a sigh and rolled onto her back, cocking her head enough to stare at him as she spoke. "I guess it's just that you're somebody completely different than me, but just as much someone as me. You're existing completely apart from me, you'd go on if I left even though I only think of you as someone who's around me, like you're here to be a part of my world—but you're not. You're living a life that isn't about me, and I just play a part in that. Just a part, not everything, when half the time I feel like I am everything there is to the world." The left side of her mouth twisted in a self-depreciating smile. "I don't want to live like that, though. I want to know what it's like for you, to be _real_. Just as real as me."

When she fell silent, he met her stare for half a minute before dropping his gaze, his smirk returning. "You are feeling quite philosophical to-day."

"What else am I supposed to be doing?" she scoffed, smacking a hand against the floor. "It's a rainy weekend."

"Hm."

"So," she prompted, sitting upright as she tried to catch his gaze again. "What are you doing?"

He flipped open the book on his lap, eyes skimming the page to find his place. "Reading."


	113. Jactation

**A/N:** Waiting until the day before the deadline to get to work is a bad idea, in case anyone is wondering. Getting sick is icing on the cake for trying that stunt, but at least I made deadline.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine, beyond the opinion of character.

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><p>"Niwa-kun, there you are!" Risa exclaimed as she spotted the redhead drifting through the thronged hallway toward the cafeteria. Before he had fully turned toward her and returned her wave, she hurried forward, asking, "Have you seen Hiwatari-kun? I have a lunch for him."<p>

"Aah, no, I'm sorry, Harada-san," Niwa-kun confessed with a bashful smile, his eyes remaining on her face even as his left hand darted over to keep Saehara from lifting his camera. "Did you look upstairs?"

"I checked quickly," she said, but before she could ask for another suggestion, Niwa-kun's other companion smirked as he made an observation to Saehara:

"You'd think a genius would know how to make his own lunch."

Though she rarely took notice of the boy who regularly completed the mismatched trio that Niwa-kun and Saehara had been a part of since the start of school, Sekimoto-kun's erroneous sentiments earned him her full attention at last.

"I'm sure he knows how," she said with a little toss of her head, "but he doesn't take the time. He's busy with other things."

Somewhat nervous from attracting her regard in such a way, Sekimoto-kun tried to clarify his position. "Sure he is, but it's not like you make lunch for everyone who doesn't bring their own. I just don't see why you hang out with him when he's always too busy for normal things."

"Not _all_ normal things," she replied loftily, then dropped the act to roll her eyes. "Yes, he's a little bit stuffy, but he has all sorts of qualities that make up for that and his schedule."

"I dunno," Sekimoto-kun said, glancing over at Saehara for help since turning to the tender-hearted Niwa-kun would scarcely benefit him. "Hiwatari-kun just seems icy."

"He's not!" she cried, eyes widening in something akin to horror. "He's the sweetest person I know—except for maybe Niwa-kun."

The complimented boy turned bright red, his skin beginning to match his hair, but Risa ignored his embarrassment and continued with her argument. "You don't know the first thing about Hiwatari-kun if you think he's actually icy. Of course it's hard to see past his cold exterior, but if you look for five minutes you can tell that he's thoughtful and protective and he's smart and not conceited about it and he'd do _anything_ for anybody who needed his help." With a decisive nod, she concluded, "I bet you don't know three people as nice as him."

"That's a little hard to believe," Saehara interjected as Sekimoto-kun shied away in the face of Risa's vehemence. "He's always acting like he thinks he's an adult—and besides, he's so blank-faced. _All _of the pictures I have of him look the same!"

"Just because he's smart enough to keep you from get a picture of him doing anything weird isn't something to be held against him," Risa sniffed, but the expression that flashed over Saehara's face suggested that he recalled the incident on the beach, ages ago, when she had nearly drowned and woken to find Hiwatari-kun beside her. Not at all interested in that scenario being brought into the discussion, she hurried on zealously, "Anyway, I ought to know what he's like. He's my best friend."

At the declaration, Sekimoto-kun and Saehara burst out in stunned exclamations of disbelief, but she waved them aside with a careless toss of her hand, insisting, "Of course he is. Like I was saying, he'll take care of someone like me, and that's important in a gentleman. I can trust him."

"He _must_ like you, Harada," Saehara announced, catching Sekimoto-kun's arm and shaking him while the titles of breaking-news articles seemed flash before the journalist's eyes.

"Don't be absurd," she cried, swinging her bentou box over to smack Saehara in the stomach. "The best thing about Hiwatari-kun is that he's trustworthy for all circumstances. I can trust him to take as much care of me as he'd take care of _you_—except of course that he'd treat me like a lady and you like an idiot!"

As Saehara fought to recover his breath, Sekimoto-kun ignored his friend's plight and instead returned to the initially disputed point. "He still could make his own lunch."

"Yes, he could, but he just brings bread and I don't want him to eat that every day. Anyway, Niwa-kun is probably relieved that I don't practice my cooking on _him_ anymore," she stated, then grinned as the boy in question choked a little over an attempt to politely direct the subject to a less controversial topic. Refusing to be deterred, she finished with an emphatic, "I'm sure that Hiwatari-kun could best you at anything at all."

"Wait—shh!" Sekimoto-kun hissed, waving his hand toward her worriedly. "He's coming!"

The four quieted and turned to see Hiwatari-kun's approach, and though the newcomer's countenance did not change in expression, his deep blue eyes found Risa's and regarded her with some amount of suspicion. Forcing an overtly innocent smile, she fluttered her lashes a little as she said, "Hello, Hiwatari-kun. I made a lunch for you."

His eyes narrowed slightly, but before he quite reached the group, he shifted his gaze to further down the hall and continued past them without a word.

When Hiwatari-kun had no chance of overhearing, Sekimoto-kun muttered under his breath, "He didn't even say hello."

Risa rounded upon Sekimoto-kun, thrusting her finger toward him. "He can do the cold shoulder _so_ much better than you can."


	114. Keloid

**A/N:** This does reference a bit of stuff from the last couple chapters out there, but nothing actually spoiler-y. Have fun.

**Disclaimer:** We've been over this before.

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><p>"Hiwatari-kun... I want to ask you something."<p>

"When have I ever been able to stop you before?" Satoshi countered, glancing over at the girl who walked beside him as they wandered Azumano, aimlessly traversing the sidewalks lining the shopping district. However, when he caught sight of the soft brown eyes turned toward him, their naiveté mellowed by contemplation if not also sadness, all sarcasm fled from his mind. "What is it, Harada-san?"

As she lowered her gaze to her shoes, she released a sigh, her shoulders relaxing a little, though she remained silent for a minute before asking tentatively, "What hurts more...? Feeling yourself being worn away, or feeling nothing except callouses and scars?"

Hesitant to respond without understanding her reasoning, he studied her intently, trying to piece together the cause of her mood and question, but after a short while of scrutinizing her downcast eyes and drooping form, he abandoned his attempt and merely inquired, "Why do you ask?"

After a pause of her own, she lifted her gaze to his and replied, voice almost subdued, "I thought you would know."

Unsure still how best to reply, he watched her for a moment longer before giving in to the look in her eyes. "There is pain that accompanies such erosion, but emptiness comes with scars."

"Is the emptiness helpful?" she pressed, pulling her hands together in front of herself before dropping them again to her sides as she looked away from him.

Without a hint of colour in his tone, he said, "Only if you wish to live dying."

She held her breath briefly, then released it with a noncommittal hum in the back of her throat. Dropping her chin to her chest, she stared at her feet again as they skimmed across the sidewalk, and she sighed once more.

He waited a minute for her to speak, but as the silence stretched on, he lifted his left hand, turning his palm upward to show the thin white mark trailing his palm.

"Sometimes, Harada-san," he murmured, eyes trained upon his hand, "a scar simply means you stood up for something and healed from the hurt that caused you."

When he looked over at her, he found she had turned toward him again, but she shied away at once from his gaze, angling her face to the side, her hair sliding forward and shrouding her pained expression.

Resolutely pushing aside the logic that forbade him to comfort her, he lowered his hand toward hers and wavered momentarily before meshing their fingers together. At the touch, she darted a glance up at him, momentarily bewildered, then pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling, and took a step nearer to him, huddling against his arm as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Nigh inaudible, she whispered on a sigh, "Sometimes scars will just mean you've moved on."


	115. Labefaction

**A/N:** I should learn. Stalling until the last two days before working on the update brings unprecedented difficulties. I should learn. Eventually. We'll pretend that I didn't actually write and edit this all in one day.

**Disclaimer:** Lazy me would not have a whole manga underway. I might have the huge hiatuses, but really. Nobody is confused about ownership rights here.

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><p>Though Hiwatari-kun rarely spoke without prompting, Risa could not help but worry about how withdrawn he seemed: they had walked almost the full distance from school to her house and he had kept his gaze trained on the ground, his visage locked in an expression of dull passivity. She did not want to annoy him with any undesired conversation, but her concern increased with every passing minute. While she usually could not discern any weakness in him, he looked overwhelmingly tired even though his steps never faltered.<p>

Releasing a sigh, she shifted her gaze to the road in front of them, wondering if she should try to distract him with a funny story. She could not hope to make him laugh, but she might find a way to make him relax a little.

In her peripheral vision, she saw his shoulders curl forward, the whole of his frame wracked with a violent shudder, and she sucked in a breath as he staggered a step toward the building beside him, his hand swinging out to brace himself against the wall.

"Hiwatari-kun!" As her book bag tumbled unnoticed to the ground, she darted out her hands to catch his arm, trying to keep him from falling forward.

While he sagged against the building, his head hanging heavily as he drew a few shallow breaths, she worked the arm she had grabbed to rest around her neck, her heart pounding in defiance of her attempts to remain calm.

"It's all right," he said quietly, pushing himself upright and removing his hand from the wall. "Let me walk."

Bewildered, she lifted wide eyes to his face, grappling with the colloquial words she had just heard him utter. Even at his weakest moments, sick or hurt or incensed, he had always maintained rigid formality in his speech.

When he tried to pull his arm free, breaking her of her astonishment, she tightened her hold on him and said firmly, "No. I'm going to help you home."

"I will go home on my own," he replied, his voice returning to its usual monotone.

"No," she stated, forcing all the strength of her will into a glare as she gripped his wrist to prevent him from slipping free. "I'm going with you."

"Harada-san—"

"Stop complaining," she snapped, her brow knotting as she looked away. As her panic drained from the forefront of her mind, fear rose to take its place, and she could not let him see her frailty when she had to help him. Even though her voice fought to betray her with a quiver of emotion, she steeled herself to explain, "You're always helping other people, especially me. I'm not going to let you be selfish this time and not let me help you, too."

After taking a small breath to steady herself, she lifted pleading eyes to him. "I want to help you, Hiwatari-kun."

For a moment, he simply stared at her, the exhaustion still evident in his bearing, then he averted his eyes. "No one can, Harada-san."

"I know," she confessed, holding back a sniffle, and when he glanced at her again, she forced a smile. "So you're going to let me pretend, because you're Hiwatari-kun, and Hiwatari-kun doesn't like it when I'm sad."


	116. Mops

**A/N:** Yes, this chapter name _is_ quite unlike its near predecessors, and there's good reason for that: this story is quite old. Years old, in fact, and I had been saving it for just the right time for showing. Little did I realize that when the time came, I'd be disgusted by my own writing. This fellow went through a fair beating to be presentable.

**Disclaimer:** Naught has been done with this beyond me trying to better portray that which another has proposed.

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><p>"Caught you!"<p>

After a brief pause to recover from his surprise, Satoshi calmly pushed the mop away from his face and stared down at Harada-san, who met his gaze in what he supposed ought to have been a fierce glare. The smudge on his left lens, courtesy of the mop's sponge-end, distorted her features somewhat and did nothing to help increase her meager powers of intimidation.

"Caught me for what purpose?" he queried blandly, removing the dirtied glasses from his face and reaching for his handkerchief.

"You're going to help me clean the classroom," she declared and thumped the mop handle against the floor to punctuate her words.

"I thought your sister was to help you," he said as he finished polishing the lenses.

Though his gaze remained on his glasses, his occupation did not prevent him from catching the subtle shift in her demeanour: a thoughtful, good-intentioned expression stole over her face, which he knew signified that she had meddled in the affairs of others.

"Well, she wanted to go home early, since Niwa-kun offered to walk with her. I didn't want to keep her, so I told her I'd find someone else to help me."

"Then I suggest you find someone else," he replied, rubbing his face with an unused section of his handkerchief before pocketing the cloth again. "I have my own work to do."

"Yes," she agreed, even as she lifted the mop to point accusingly at him. "Like walking around looking like a stick in the mud."

Withholding a sigh, he slid his glasses back into place over his ears and asked, "Why me, Harada-san?"

Her eyebrows quirked upwards in surprise and she lowered the mop, echoing, "'Why'? Why not?"

When he merely stared at her, his right eyebrow lifted, she gave a small snort and stuck out her tongue at him before expounding, "Fine—because I wanted to do it with you."

"Fukuda-san said no?" he inquired, wry, well aware that her requests exercised far less influence over her other friends than with him.

Dubiously amused, she smiled at him and shook her head, her brow knotting. "No, I asked you first."

Though he hardly considered a mop thrust in his face a proper form of asking, he reasoned that an argument about the difference between 'coerce' and 'request' would not end well.

"I just wanted to hang out with you," she finished, hitching her shoulders toward her ears.

"We do that enough at other times," he pointed out blandly.

"Enough?" she laughed, waving the mop toward his face yet again. "Since when can I hang out with my best friend enough?"

At her words, he stilled, his breathing halting for a moment, and he stared at her in silence before turning his gaze away. "Best friend?"

"What, I surprised you?" she asked, mirth lingering in her tone, though tinted with uncertainty.

"I..." he began, struggling against a paralyzing sense of speechlessness. "I did not think you would consider me that close."

"Well, not close," she confessed, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the floor, her head dipping downward. "I know that you don't tell me a lot... But we're together so much, and you always listen to me, even if I'm saying the same things as always... and you're always very patient with me, and you talk to me in..." She trailed off momentarily, then swallowed and forced herself to look up at him again, a brave smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "You treat me like I matter, all the time. You're the best person I know, and we're friends, so that makes you my best friend."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her upturned face, its innocence and trust both familiar and bewildering. How long had he tried to imagine he had kept distance between them, when in actuality she had completely slipped past his defenses and settled herself in his life? He had meant to protect her from himself.

"What is it, Hiwatari-kun?" she asked, her smile fading to a worried frown.

For a moment, he continued to examine her face, wondering at the change he could elicit in her, and then he lowered his head, a faint smirk twitching the corner of his mouth.

"Did you hit your head with the mop, Harada-san?"

Brightening at the sarcasm, she waggled the mop's handle at him, teasing, "Nope, just yours. Want me to do it again?"

"It is meant for the floor," he replied, removing the mop from her hands before she could assault his face once more. "Let me do it."

"So you'll help me?" she chirruped, eyes brightening with hope, and he quirked a half-smile at her.

"To borrow the colloquialism: what are friends for?"


	117. Niding

**A/N:** I could not resist this archaic word. The meaning was too good to pass up for my purposes.

**Disclaimer:** The characters are very dearly loved, but very much not my own.

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><p>The onslaught of reality came in the form of cold air surging through his nose and dousing his lungs, awakening his other senses in a split second. Forcing his numbed arms to push himself away from the smothering heat of his sweat-soaked pillow, he took a steadying breath before squinting through the dark to read the clock beside his bed. After a moment spent staring at the digits' harsh red light as he processed the early hour, he closed his dry, aching eyes and lowered his chin to his chest.<p>

His hair clung to his brow, shifting strand by strand across his skin as his head rocked listlessly with each breath he took. Though he locked his elbows to keep himself from falling forward, his braced arms yet quivered, adrenaline tumbling through his body and sickening his stomach.

He could still see her distinctly in his mind's eye, her familiar form twisted painfully, far from reach, a mere broken heap on the distant ground as he stared at her from the museum roof.

With a measured exhale, he relaxed the tension in his shoulders and forced himself to be still once more. He refused to allow himself to be undone by a simple dream.

Slowly, he eased himself down to lie on his back, too exhausted to get out of bed in an attempt to distract himself with work. Later in the morning, when the sun rose and he bestirred himself to attend school, the image would be forgotten entirely. He would see to it.

"Coward."

His heart twisted sharply at the hated voice, and he opened his eyes for a moment, staring unseeing at the blackness shrouding him before he let his eyelids slip shut again. "I am not bothered by a dream."

"They plague you," Krad contradicted, the words hard and blank despite being quiet, devoid of his usual purr. "Still, you know that is not of what I speak."

Remaining quiet, Satoshi tried to close his mind and return to sleep, beyond the manipulation of the devil he housed.

"You dare not tell her what you are, dare not trust her with anything too near," Krad continued, unmoved by the silence, "but at the same time you refuse to hold to what your family requires of you, betraying your mother—"

"Shut up!" The words sprang unbidden from his mouth, his voice distorted in a snarl.

"It is no good, Satoshi-sama," Krad murmured, lacing his tone with silkiness at last, his dreaded whispering of poison. "You balance yourself upon a precipice, trying to align with two desires; only one shall win in the end."

As weakness speared his body, he sank further into the mattress and breathed a hopeless entreaty: "Let me sleep..."

"You must choose, Satoshi-sama," Krad insisted, voice lowering to a soporific thrum in the back of his mind. "Do you push her away at last, foregoing the pleasant delusions she dangles before you, or do you abandon your heritage and power, betraying all that rests on your shoulders?"

He fitted the heels of his palms over his eyes, his fingernails scraping over his sweaty brow.

"Shut up."


	118. Oath

**A/N:** In which someone loses her temper at last. No, there is no cursing; there is only a curse.

**Disclaimer:** I only throw in the catalysts.

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><p>"You're so stupid!"<p>

Even the split second warning of her outburst did not prepare him for the strike of her palm to his head, and he staggered a step to the side, unable to recover his wits before she pulled back and cried, tone pitched high in agitation, "Don't look at me like that!"

Stunned by her sudden, uncharacteristically violent explosion, he turned his widened eyes back to her and asked in stupefaction, "Like what, Harada-san?"

"With those innocent eyes," she replied, teeth grinding, her voice moderated to a reasonable level again, though her eyebrows pulled down and together as she glared at him. After drawing a steadying breath, she locked her arms over her chest, her fingers curling until her nails bit into the fabric of her sleeves. "Just stop already."

Almost of its own accord, his right hand lifted to fidget with his glasses, trying to set them back in place so that perhaps the world might look sane again. Though he had been aware of some tension in her bearing that day, he had not expected she would ever lash out at him so fiercely without provocation, if only due to her obsession with remaining a dignified lady.

"You keep _looking_ at me like that," she said, the anger in her voice faltering and giving way to a semblance of desperation. "Like when you're planning something stupid for the good of somebody else." Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes for a moment before lifting a pleading gaze to him. "Promise you'll stay with me."

Lowering his hand to his side again, he met her stare resolutely, too stubborn to allow three surprises in a row to overwhelm him. "What are you talking about, Harada-san?"

"Promise you'll stay with me, like this, always," she insisted, her knuckles whitening as her fingers clenched harder over the sleeves of her school uniform.

How she had deduced what had been on his mind he would never know, but likewise, he would not tell her how close she had come to his nascent plans. With a small shake of his head, he replied, "Friendship does not last unaltered."

"I don't want you to go," she confessed, and with those words, all tension drained from her at last and she shrank into herself, looking wholly exhausted.

As she weakened before him, he resisted the impulse to reach out to her and instead merely swallowed before he responded, his voice softening, "A promise would not change what comes."

"Hiwatari-kun always keeps his word," she declared staunchly, then pressed her mouth into a hard line.

Wavering, he stared at her earnest eyes and wondered how much she had discovered about his secrets without him having breathed a word. To what extent did she understand the threat of what would take him away in the end, when a promise could not keep him from succumbing to the darkness hovering over him, the last of the Hikari family?

If she knew, however, what would change?

"So my word is enough," he said slowly, steadily, the answer he had sought at last forming in his mind. "I will stay with you, Harada-san."

With a shuddering exhale, she bowed her head, shoulders sagging in relief; then she whispered, "Thank you."


	119. Portraiture

**A/N:** This might be a subtle jab toward those who abuse the word "stupid", but who can say?

**Disclaimer:** Neither darlings are mine, but that does not prevent my using them.

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><p>Stretched out on her stomach, her notebook lying at her propped-up elbows, Risa idly rolled her pencil between her fingers as she squinted at her subject. Though she had somehow managed to succeed in adequately shaping the curvature of his glasses, she found that his nose simply would not cooperate and outline properly, regardless of her numerous attempts. She bent over her pad again, eyes narrowing further as she resumed stroking faint lines across the paper in her futile effort to capture the contrary feature.<p>

At the sound of his book snapping shut, she glanced up from the sketch to see him rising from his seat. Eyes widening, she threw out her hand to signal him to stop, her pencil nearly flying free of her grip in the process. "Wait, Hiwatari-kun, no! Where are you going?"

Interrupted in the midst of setting his book on the couch, he stared at her, nonplussed, his left eyebrow pulling down as the right arched upward. "To get water."

"Oh. You have to come right back and sit down again, though," she replied, placated, then cut him off before he could do more than open his mouth: "Because I said so."

"And if I do not?" he queried, his bland tone displaying his lack of concern about the threatened repercussion.

She lifted her notebook to show him the model of his head she had been shaping next to a series of half-completed equations. "Then I won't be able to finish the picture."

His eyes narrowed as he studied the page, and after a moment he suggested, "Why not finish your homework instead?"

"No, that's boring," she said decidedly, sitting up and tucking her heels in beside herself, still holding out the notebook for inspection. "I wanted to see if it was easier to draw you."

"Was it?" he asked as he stepped over to closer observe her work.

"Eh heh... Not... really," she admitted, then tipped her head around the edge of the paper to look at the picture. "At least it was less confusing."

Lowering himself to a cross-legged position beside her, he held out his hand expectantly. "Let me help."

"Will you?" she exclaimed even as she thrust the notebook toward him. "Thank you, Hiwatari-kun!"

Taking the pencil along with the notebook, he stared at the page for a moment, then began erasing the superfluous lines about the unfinished image. She caught his wrist, pulling his hand away as she laughed, "No, not that! That's _my_ project—it's not supposed to be a self portrait. You just get to work on the math."

"I could do both," he stated, glancing up at her and raising his eyebrow again.

"That's not the point," she answered, condescendingly patting his hand. "I want to figure out how to draw your stupid nose."

"My nose has no level of intelligence, which means it cannot very easily be stupid."

"Well, you never do very easy things, so it's not surprising your nose figured out how to be stupid."

He processed her comment for a moment, eyebrow arching higher, then he said blandly, "Thank you, I suppose."

"You're very welcome," she replied with a sharp nod. "It's the least I could do."

"I know."


	120. Quiddity

**A/N:** This is a snippet placed right in the midst of a chapter in the Second Hand of Time arc, Volume 7 of the series. There aren't any spoilers, but it ends just where the manga picks up in the scene with Riku tending her sick sister.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine. I'm playing parasite this week.

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><p>"Niwa-kun made <em>such<em> a fuss when the girls took him off to get into his costume," Riku laughed, shaking her head at the memory as she settled on the edge of Risa's bed. "You could hear him yelling from down the hall."

"I can't blame him," Risa replied with a giggle, tugging her comforter back into place under her chin. "He's so easily embarrassed by things."

Still tickled by the boy's misfortune due to being cast as the female lead in their class's upcoming play, _Ice and Snow_, Riku merely snickered and nodded her agreement, staring into the middle distance instead of further relating the school day's boisterous events to her sick twin.

"I think Niwa-kun was the cutest one in the room," Riku commented thoughtfully, tipping her head to the side. "If he were a girl, he'd be really popular."

"That's _really_ weird for you to say, Riku," Risa chided with a roll of her eyes. "You're dating him, after all."

"Th-that's not...!" her older sister choked, blood rushing to her face. "You have to see him in his costume!"

"Right, right," she laughed, then cut off in a coughing fit.

Uncomfortable, Riku rose from her seat and waited for the coughing to subside before she ventured a distraction: "But I bet you're more interested in seeing Hiwatari-kun as Dark, huh?"

"What? No!" Risa exclaimed, nearly making herself cough again. "I wish I didn't have to."

"Eh? Why not?"

"Don't be silly, Riku," she sighed, spreading her hands out, but since that allowed cold air to seep under her blanket, she pulled her arms back into the safety of her sheets. "Hiwatari-kun isn't like Dark-san at all. They're different, completely different."

Rolling her eyes at the comment, Riku quirked her mouth in a lopsided, condescending smile and replied, "It's just a play, Risa. It's not like Niwa-kun is like Freedert, either."

"He's cute enough, though," she whined, kicking a heel against her mattress, too exhausted to throw a more appropriate tantrum. "You don't understand the difference. Dark-san is _Dark-san_, and Hiwatari-kun is somebody else entirely, from the inside."

"That's _so_ helpful," her twin drawled, sarcasm stretching her words. "I understand now."

Jutting her lip out, she mumbled as pathetically as she could, "Don't tease me; I can't think when I'm sick."

"Right, well," Riku said, going back to the tray of medicine supplies, "I'm very glad Hiwatari-kun isn't that pervert. We do share a class with him, after all."

"Hiwatari-kun is a gentleman, but Dark-san is too cool to be a pervert. You should be nicer about him, Riku," Risa sighed and, recalled to her pitiful state, let her eyelids start to slide shut as the diversion her sister presented gave way to exhaustion again.

"Right, right," Riku agreed dismissively as she strode over to the bedside again, thermometer in hand. "Open your mouth."

"After all, not just anyone can make a convincing Da—"

Riku jabbed the thermometer under her sister's tongue. "I didn't mean open it so you could talk."

When Riku removed the thermometer, Risa let out a protracted sigh, then murmured, "You're just so stubborn."

"Uh-huh. Always."

"Ah... I feel so tired..." she mumbled as she leaned back into her pillow, closing her eyes.

"Good news, Risa!" Riku exclaimed in relief. "Your temperature has gone down."


	121. Recidivism

**A/N:** She can't have been trailing a Phantom Thief for so long and learned nothing. She's far too earnest. Unfortunately...

**Disclaimer:** Only borrowing because they're adorable fun.

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><p>After staring a moment at the scene unfolding in his living room, Satoshi crossed his arms and lifted his right eyebrow. "Harada-san."<p>

Startled from her task of trying to put the screen back in his window, the girl strangled a shriek, losing hold of the screen, and hopped back as the corner dropped dangerously near her foot. She spun around to face him, the frame rattling to a halt on the floor behind her, half-ignored as she offered a nervous laugh and tucked her hands behind her back. "Oh! Oh, there you are."

"Yes, here I am," he agreed blandly, his gaze flickering between the open window and her discomfited appearance. "Contrary to what you might otherwise believe, this _is_ my apartment. What are you doing?"

"I... I was coming to check on you," she replied, shifting her weight uncomfortably as she tried to meet his eyes.

"By breaking and entering?"

Shooting a guilty glance at the window, she offered weakly, "You... wouldn't answer the door."

"Because I needed to focus," he stated, but before he could elaborate, she whipped her head back around, her eyes wide.

"You've skipped two days of school!"

"As I said," he replied calmly, unlacing his arms from over his chest, "I needed to focus. School was secondary."

Tipping her head down to display the full effect of her puppy eyes as she looked up at him, she admitted in a tiny voice, "I was worried."

Unaffected by her show, he raised one shoulder in a shrug. "I told Niwa to tell you I would be busy."

"And nothing more than that!" she exclaimed, straightening abruptly as she forgot her attempt to appear pitiable.

"So you decided to sneak into my house in broad daylight?" he shot back, eyebrows lifting as he stared her down in challenge.

"Well..." she began hesitantly, fidgeting again. "You didn't answer the door."

"Requiring you to enter through the window."

"I could hardly be a suitable match for Dark-san if I couldn't," she said, tilting her chin up a moment before she shot him a quizzical glance. "How did you even hear me, though? I thought I was being quiet."

"You triggered the alarm."

"You have an alarm for your _window_?"

"Clearly I need it."

Though she spared a moment to guiltily survey her work once more, she recovered herself and turned upon him with all the righteous anger of a mother hen. "Well, I was just coming to make sure you were all right. You completely vanished! What have you been doing?"

Subduing his desire to smirk, he responded evenly, "I have been taking care of family matters."

Suspicious, she folded her arms and peered at him through narrowed eyes. "I thought you said your family was dead."

"They are, Harada-san. That does not mean they have not left unfinished business behind," he said calmly. "I have been taking care of it for some time now."

"Is that why you're always so secretive?" she asked, her suspicion giving way to eager curiosity. "It's family secrets? Did they murder somebody?"

"Harada-san," he said, holding out a hand to silence her. "You need to leave so I can finish my work. I will be at school tomorrow."

After measuring him through narrowed eyes, she verified, "You will?"

"Yes," he replied, lowering his hand to his side. "I only need the time now to finish my work."

"Okay..." she sighed in agreement, then stepped gingerly over the fallen screen to the window and grasped the ledge.

"Harada-san."

"Eh?"

Arching an eyebrow at her, he swept his hand toward the entryway, his mouth curving in a wry smirk. "Through the door."


	122. Solecism

**A/N:** I seem to have taken a fancy to manga tie-ins. I couldn't help but bring Argentine in for a bit, and why not delve a little into Risa's thought process before the manga resumes with her POV? Somebody had to play with it.

**Disclaimer:** Borrowing a scene directly from D.N. Angel, volume 18, stage 3, chapter 1.2, which suggests I do not own more than my own words.

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><p>Contemplative, Risa tipped forward to rest her elbows on the table before her, propping her chin on the heels of her palms. Though the quarter moon continued to climb the satin sky, gliding through the long hours of the night, she refused to move back from the chair to the bed beside her. Instead, she kept her gaze trained upon her captor, who stood in front of the tall, arched windows, the silvery moonlight bathing him in a surreal aura.<p>

Because he had remained so close to her since she had woken, she had surrendered any hopes of discovering a way to escape on her own. His constant hovering rendered her unable to even begin trying to find a way to circumvent the broken staircase or to search for some sign of civilization from the balcony. Though she expected someone to come rescue her, she had already waited a long while for Dark-san or at least the police to arrive, and as time continued to stretch onward without any change in her circumstances, she wanted nothing more than to rest.

Curling her fingers around the loose-hanging hair about her face, she reminded her tiring body that she would not tolerate sleeping. She had slept enough to get by; she refused to give Argentine the chance to change her clothes again.

Her anger over his offense had already unexpectedly dissipated since he seemed strangely innocent, regardless of his actions. She could not forgive him for changing her dress—twice, no less—but he still seemed entirely oblivious of how he had trespassed, an ignorance that deprived her of revulsion, even though her indignation remained. After her rescue, if she dared tell anyone about the liberty he had taken, he would undoubtedly find himself in deeper trouble than that incurred by merely kidnapping her. She knew telling her parents would horrify them, and if she told Dark-san, he would certainly try to avenge her straightaway. However much the idea of that duel tantalized her, she would have settled for any man she knew; any male worth anything would know that he ought to defend a lady's honour.

Hiwatari-kun, for instance. If he learned what Argentine had done, she knew he would be furious. Despite his incessant efforts to remain quiet and aloof, he would not hesitate to fulfill the part of the gentleman, making her kidnapper rue the day he had gotten near her. A few times, Argentine's calm manners and polite, almost formal speech had reminded her of Hiwatari-kun, but even so, he had proved himself Hiwartari-kun's inverse in every other way. His constant violations of decorum, in manhandling her and daring to touch her clothes, made him incapable of comparison to Hiwatari-kun and his gentlemanly nature.

Narrowing her eyes, her brow drawing into a little knot, she surveyed her kidnapper's strange appearance and impassive face. Perhaps he and Hiwatari-kun also shared a lack of understanding about how to express emotions. Argentine had not known what his tears had meant, and while Hiwatari-kun certainly could not claim the same, he rarely seemed to know how to lower his walls and show what he felt. Maybe that alone had caused her to recognize something familiar in Argentine: he and Hiwatari-kun shared some essence, something hidden within, that closed them off from knowing how to let themselves feel.

Still, what she sensed might not have anything to do with Hiwatari-kun at all, but might involve Dark-san instead. After all, Argentine had mentioned Dark Wing repeatedly, saying that he and Dark were one, and the powers he displayed had some origin like Dark-san's. If she could get her taciturn kidnapper to talk to her, she might get to the bottom of the mystery before someone rescued her.

Finally stirring herself from her thoughts, she ventured to break the silence with a wary question. "When you say 'Dark Wing,' you're talking about Dark-san, right?"


	123. Telos

**A/N:** I hope we get to see more of Rio Hikari someday soon. I particularly want to know how she died, and when. Satoshi was already dealing with the curse when we see her, so her death must have been fairly recent, which leads me to wonder how Kei got involved so rapidly. Did Rio and he have some sort of connection which allowed Satoshi to be involved in the police's effort to capture Dark? Oh, the possibilities...

**Disclaimer:** I own the straw. Scintillating character development to come. Maybe.

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><p>As she ignored the crowds drifting past the food court, Harada-san, her forearms leaned against the tabletop, pulled the bent straw up and down through the plastic flaps of her cup's lid. Out of the blue, without looking away from her drink, she inquired, "What do you want to do with your life, Hiwatari-kun?"<p>

Lifting his gaze from the bouncing straw, Satoshi examined her calm expression to ascertain that nothing amiss drove her question, then he responded, honest, "Fulfill my mother's expectations."

"You want to, right?" she asked, her eyebrows arching as she glanced up at him. "You shouldn't chain yourself to one plan just because it was your first. That's not healthy."

His mouth twisted in a wry smirk as he echoed, "Not healthy."

"No, I mean it," she said emphatically, straightening in her chair, her countenance firming in earnestness. "Since you've been without her so long, you must have been very young when she told you what she wanted you to do. Your interests can change a lot in that time—and besides, what you knew yesterday isn't necessarily what you know to-day. If you're too stubborn to admit you might have been wrong, you can't change; and if you stop changing, you start dying."

He folded his arms across his chest, smirking as he pointed out blandly, "By that logic, you could outgrow that philosophy tomorrow."

"I might stop believing it, but it's not like me believing something makes it true or not," she replied, releasing her straw to defiantly cross her arms. "I'm not silly enough to think that I'll always be right. I just think we need to be willing to listen and think—about what others say, about how we feel, or about what we believe."

Not at all interested in explaining why he could not abandon his mother's expectations, he tried to distract her with a dry chuckle. "You _are_ feeling philosophical to-day."

"Yes. Yes, I am," she said with a toss of her head, bouncing her shoulders in a shrug. "That's why I asked you what you want to do with your life." She lifted her eyebrows again, prompting. "Do you still really want to do what your mother wanted for you?"

Refusing to his show hesitance to answer, he held her gaze, unflinching, and hummed noncommittally in the back of his throat.

"Well," she laughed, rising from her seat and grabbing her cup, "think about it, then. I won't pry."

As she strolled off to find a place to dispose of her cup, he followed her with his gaze, and a solemn smile finally touched the corner of his mouth. Though he could never tell her, he had already discovered what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, quite apart from what his mother had told him he must do: he merely wished to stay near Risa until the end.


	124. Umbrage

**A/N:** This does have something of a spoiler in it, though nothing distinct. This is a mere suggestion of what might happen after the last updated chapter, during the school dance, and after Riku witnesses what she didn't think was possible.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine. Just building on Yukiru-sensei's foundation.

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><p>Only after Risa had scoured the entire gymnasium did she spot her sister standing alone at the edge of the dancing couples, her gaze trained on the cup of juice in her hands. As she observed Riku's sagging shoulders and blank expression, she slowed her approach and glanced around the room for Niwa-kun, wondering if his absence had a more plausible excuse than his disappearing to the water closet. Since his evening had already been divided between both Harada girls, he would not walk away from his girlfriend after he had nearly missed coming with her altogether—not unless they had quarreled. Still, they had seemed so cheerful before, and the night's only drawback, as far as Risa could tell, had been his clumsy dancing and the scuff marks he put on his partner's shoes, and Riku certainly would not bicker with him over that.<p>

"Riku," she called gently as she neared her twin, "what's wrong?"

Startled from her thoughts, Riku fumbled with the cup, narrowly avoiding sloshing liquid across the floor, then glanced up at her sister, but the moment their gazes met, she turned her face away. "Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Riku," Risa said firmly, drawing to a stop at her sister's elbow. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I... did," Riku mumbled in reply, then shook herself from her daze as she realized what she had admitted. "I did see something, I mean. There was... a strange man."

Sucking in a gasp, Risa snapped her hand around Riku's arm and demanded, "Did he... _hurt_ you?"

"No."

"What happened?" Risa asked, her concern mounting even though she believed the decided reply. "What was he doing here? What was he like?"

"He didn't do much," Riku answered, tone flat and far less believable than a moment before. "He was tall... with very long hair. Golden hair."

With another sharp inhale, Risa tightened her grip on Riku's arm. "He was here? Just now?"

Brow knotting in confusion, Riku shot a quick glance at her, then at the door. "Yes...?"

"I have to go see him!" Risa exclaimed, releasing her sister's arm and spinning toward the door. "I have to thank hi—"

"No!"

Strong fingers clasped above her elbow, drawing her up short, and Risa looked back at her twin in bewilderment. "Ri-Riku...?"

"Don't you dare get near him," Riku said, voice laced with vehemence that sounded almost like fear.

Though worry came again like pressure in her chest, Risa stated with vehemence of her own, "He saved my life, Riku."

"He... what?" Riku asked, pulling back slightly, her doubts and wonder playing openly across her countenance.

"Back... when I was kidnapped," Risa explained quietly, shooting a wary look around herself to make sure no one could overhear. "Dark-san had left me, to fight with my kidnapper. I almost fell from a tower—I _did_ fall—but someone caught me. Someone, a man, with golden hair and white wings, like Dark-san but lighter."

As the memories rushed back to the forefront of her mind, she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Though she had never hesitated to laud Dark-san to Riku, she had always kept her white-winged rescuer a secret, and confessing his appearance at the tower made her all the more jealous of hiding their encounter on the museum roof, when he had first kept her from falling. She stared at her sister, willing her to understand that she did not need to be afraid, and after a moment, Riku's whole bearing eased.

"He's gone for now," she stated, fingering the cup in her hands. "He left."

"Riku... what's going on?" Risa asked quietly, her brow furrowing as she reached out to touch her elder sister's arm.

"Just leave me alone, Risa," she replied, shying away. "And don't try to get close to that man."

Without another word, Riku strode to the door leading outside, leaving Risa to stare after her, nonplussed, apprehension growing in her mind even as she struggled to assure herself that Riku had again overreacted to something she did not understand.

"He's my hero," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her stomach to offer herself some slight reassurance. "Isn't he?"


	125. Vaniloquence

**A/N:** Growing up takes a while. Obviously.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing; this is equally obvious.

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><p>Though Harada-san noisily scraped a chair across the floor to sit beside his desk, Satoshi kept his attention trained on the notebook in front of him, his chin propped on the pad of his thumb as his first two fingers supported his cheek.<p>

Once she had settled herself with a huff into the chair and laced her arms over her chest, she proclaimed, "I'm coming to hang out with you."

"Why the announcement?" he inquired idly, jotting a note beneath his checklist of preparations for the evening's anticipated heist.

"So you know it's pointless to try running away," she declared, sliding her foot under his desk to bump the toe of his shoe.

Disregarding her attempt to break his focus, he continued writing as he commented, "You do make a formidable stalker."

"Hah, hah."

Since she made no further effort to engage him in conversation, he glanced up after a moment and inclined his head toward the group of classmates she had abandoned in favour of sitting beside him. "Why did you leave your friends?"

Her mouth twitching with a self-satisfied smirk, she tilted her head and asked loftily, "Do you question my wanting to spend time with you?"

"Every day," he replied dryly, then arched his eyebrows. "So?"

She peeked back at the cluster of girls before she shrugged and admitted, "They were being ridiculous."

"Oh?"

"Just blabbering on about stupid things," she said condescendingly, "like cute boys, and new makeup."

Halting in the midst of writing another note, he shifted his blank gaze to her face, and she waited only a few seconds for him to speak before she asked defensively, "What is it?"

"It seems ironic, that judgment," he responded, his right eyebrow quirking upward.

"What? Coming from me?" she asked, then sat forward, huffing. "You're so mean, Hiwatari-kun—I'm much more mature than that!"

Eyelids drooping, he stared at her in silence until she leaned back in her seat, squirming.

"Well... more mature _now_," she mumbled, then slipped her foot under the desk to kick him again. "Just not _that_ mature."


	126. Wanion

**A/N:** This conversation will have to happen some day... So I decided to give a preview.

**Disclaimer:** Only biding my time before Yukiru-sensei starts publishing more.

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><p>"Nn, Hiwatari-kun, have you noticed anything... odd, about Niwa-kun?"<p>

Continuing to poke his chopsticks at the boxed lunch Harada-san had offered him, he shifted his gaze to measure her from the corner of his eye as he inquired calmly, "Why do you ask?"

"I've just been... trying to figure out why he's so... different," she admitted as she nudged her own emptied lunchbox away from herself, her gaze trained on the redhead who sat at the other end of the cafeteria.

"His mother, as I understand it, is eccentric," Satoshi offered, lifting his shoulders in an elegant, if unconcerned, shrug.

"That's not it," she said with a shake of her head before she slid forward to rest her arms and chin on the tabletop. After releasing a drawn-out sigh, she tilted her head to the side and remarked, "I just sometimes think that there's something he's hiding."

"Oh?"

"Like there's some hidden part of him, something that he can't tell even my sister," she expounded, her right index finger starting to rap gently on the table, her nail clicking against the wood beneath her hand. "Something... that makes him behave... like someone he isn't."

At last lifting his eyes from the food before him, Satoshi turned his gaze to the boy seated at a distant table with some of his closer friends. Niwa's laughter mingled with the group's and he appeared as carefree as his peers, despite the secret he harboured.

Returning his focus to his meal, Satoshi said quietly, "He is growing—from boy to man."

"I'm not sure that's it," she mumbled in response, angling her head back to face her companion, her tone lowering as she hesitated to put her thoughts into words. "It's more like... a shadow of someone else."

Though he hummed thoughtfully in the back of his throat, he busied himself with eating to avoid giving her any further inkling of the secrets she had begun to sense.

"You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

With his habitual blank mien, he arched his eyebrows and met her probing stare as he continued to chew his bite of food unhurriedly.

"You do," she said after a moment more, the corner of her mouth twitching as she suppressed a victorious smile. Before he could form a response, she concluded magnanimously, "Don't worry, I won't ask you to tell me."

Narrowing her eyes, she shifted her gaze back to Niwa. "I'll figure it out for myself."

"Leave it be."

Startled by his stern declaration, she swung her head back around, her eyes wide with bewilderment. "Eh?"

He lowered his voice, his inflection bearing a hint of foreboding. "Some things grow darker the further in you get."

As she sank back down to lean on the table, he looked down at the lunch between his hands and belatedly noted the whitening of his knuckles. Easing his tensed muscles, he applied himself to the meal again and ignored the niggling fear that she would disregard his warning.

Curses rarely affected only those who earned them.


	127. Xenophilia

**A/N:** I have to make a mental note to write more library-based scenes. Too much fun, the things I could do.

**Disclaimer:** Supposing I were to try to claim these characters as mine, I'd fail pretty quickly. I'm not keen on failure, so I won't bother.

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><p>Out of his peripheral vision, Satoshi saw the younger Harada twin appear from an aisle of bookshelves, then pick her way over to the table he had chosen for its distance from the other students making use of the library. When she reached his corner, she dropped the stack of books she carried onto the table edge across from him, and he lifted his gaze from his own reading to see what titles she had selected.<p>

"What are you studying?" he asked, his right eyebrow arching as he realized the whole stack consisted of Western fashion reference material.

"Nothing," she replied nonchalantly as she pulled one of the thickest volumes over to rest in front of her, then flipped it open to view the table of contents.

"Only looking?"

"Mhm. It's interesting."

"Mmm," he hummed, then lowered his gaze to the page he had been reading.

After holding her peace for all of five seconds, she looked across the table at him and asked wryly, "What? Can't I be curious?"

"Of course," he conceded, his mouth twitching toward a smirk. "It is only that you seem to be easily enthralled by foreign subjects."

With a huff of a laugh, she shook her head, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Not really—I just like fashion."

Blandly curious, he met her gaze and asked, his eyebrows arching, "What about chasing the Phantom Thief?"

Her cheeks tinting pink, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat and glanced around the room for something to distract herself from her embarrassment. "Well..."

"And you never leave me alone," he added, a point that supplied her with enough distraction from her discomfiture that she pinned him with her gaze again, grinning.

"What, you're foreign?"

Again, he arched his eyebrows at her and offered in challenge, "Name one other person like me."

Only after she opened her mouth did she realize she had no reply to offer, and after a moment's deliberation, she shook her head and scolded in a whisper, "Shh. We're in a library; no talking."


	128. Yore

**A/N:** Almost finished with the year-long alphabet challenge. These last three letters were harder to find something to work with, but they also happen to be some of my favourites of the bunch. Where _does_ time go, though?

**Disclaimer:** Nothing. I borrow everything. I'm merely a composer of the notes I've learned over time.

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><p>For most of the walk from school to Harada-san's house, the only noise around Satoshi had been the soft patter of rain on his umbrella and the passing of cars and people over wet asphalt. Overhead, the endless cover of grey clouds seemed to hang in perfect stillness, cloaking the earth in shade and lulling all into a deep tranquility.<p>

In front of his vacant gaze, a rivulet of rainwater spilled over the umbrella's rim and drew him back from his idle thoughts to the present. Inhaling the damp air through his nose, he shifted the curved handle in his grasp to a new position, the subtle movement enough to stir the girl at his elbow from her own silent reflection.

"You don't live with your adoptive father," Harada-san stated, shifting her gaze from the translucent puddles underfoot to his face. "Is that because you dislike him so much?"

Unperturbed by the abrupt question, he tilted his head toward her, his right eyebrow arching. "Why do you ask?"

"Well..." she began, but caught her lower lip between her teeth and let her eyes wander to the building they passed, her fingers flexing before meshing together as she said, "I was just wondering if you ever wish that your mother was still alive, so you could live with her instead."

When she glanced back at him, hopeful as much as hesitant, he had smoothed away all trace of his surprise and merely replied in monotone, "No."

After a brief pause, he dropped his gaze to his shoes, focusing his attention on the sheen coating the walkway as he expounded, "Because I would be a disappointment to her."

"Why?" she asked in bewilderment, stepping a little closer to him, her uniform's skirt brushing against his leg. "How could she be disappointed? You're so smart and talented, and you're focused all the time. I'm sure she'd be impressed."

With a slight shake of his head, he looked back at the girl beside him and said, tone still blank, "There are some things, Harada-san, that you cannot understand."

"You don't know how much I can learn," she replied without hesitation, her concerned gaze searching his face.

Resolutely, he turned his eyes away and tipped the umbrella back a fraction so he could watch the clouds. After a moment's struggle with the memories of his brief childhood, he closed his eyes to block out the grey sky as he murmured, "The past rarely stays in the past."

"Is that why?" she queried, quiet and reflective, gently pulling him away from his painful recollections. "Is that why you're living like this and keeping people out? There's something that happened, that she knew about, that you're trying to fix—or cover up?"

His jaw tightened slightly at her questions, but, refusing to give her any further clues, he remained silent and fixed his eyes on the rainclouds again.

"One day, Hiwatari-kun," she said, drawing herself to her full height. "One day, I'll figure it out."

"I hope not."

From the corner of his eye, he saw her sag and cast him a disappointed glance, and he released a short breath before he caught her arm, drawing her to a halt in front of him. She blinked at him in surprise, pulling her arm in towards herself, but he held her fast, asking quietly, "Why do you think I try so hard, Harada-san?"

"And why do _you_ think _I_ try so hard?" she asked, her demeanour softening again to a smile. "You shouldn't have to face it alone."


	129. Zenith

**A/N:** We have now reached the end of the alphabetical updates. I thought we could use a special finale, so I chose a very particular word to help support that. I hope you enjoy what I've put together.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine save for the hope that one day... Maybe one day soon...

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><p>"What am I missing?" Risa mumbled under her breath, her fingers wrapping around her mechanical pencil.<p>

The notebook, situated on the desk in front of her, did not bother to answer. All the words and scribbles decorating the open pages jumbled before her eyes and she heaved a sigh, pushing the notebook away from her and scraping her chair back so she could stand. Arching her arms over her head, she tugged at her wrists to further stretch her cramped muscles, her mind still lost to the facts she had tried to piece together as soon as she had finished her homework.

With a heavy sigh, she lowered her arms and glanced at the clock by her bed—only a few minutes until midnight, which meant she had spent well over two hours trying to think of any little detail that would help her understand.

Disheartened, she shuffled to the foot of her bed to grab her pajamas, wondering why she could not work out some logical answer to Hiwatari-kun's problems. Though he would never voluntarily let her meddle in his affairs, she thought she could have figured out enough to at least begin helping him bear his burden. He had lately become more tired than she had ever seen him and still refused to give her any opportunity to aid him.

Her mouth twitched with a wry smile. She had never allowed people to discourage her by telling her to mind her own business. As Hiwatari-kun's friend, she had every right to help him, and she would, whether he believed she should or not.

At least, she would help as soon as she understood his secret.

Lost to thought, she finished changing her clothes, then, with another sigh, she stepped over to turn off her reading lamp, sparing a final glance at the notebook. In place of the lamplight, the moon illuminated all of the lines and circles and questions she had jotted across the pages, speculation and confusion poured out onto paper. Of all the facts she had thought she had learned, too many proved themselves to be flimsy guesswork, but at the same time it seemed that if she had just a single, solid answer to one of her myriad questions, every piece would fall into place.

Her gaze strayed to the moonlit balcony and she hesitated, trying to remember the exact words Hiwatari-kun had used when he stood there, helping her find her way out of the mirror _Insomnia_. However he had managed to appear in that world, he had come to help her escape the trap she had fallen into, and she would return the favour somehow.

Though she had been distracted with her own worries, she knew he had told her that his family had some connection to artwork; that made perfect sense, considering how Hiwatari-kun worked with the police to capture Dark-san, heading the division while still a minor.

"There's more to it than that, though, I know it," she mumbled to the room, but again received no answer.

Well aware that she could not sleep with her thoughts so tangled, she stopped in front of the balcony door and rested her left palm against the glass, her gaze roaming the moonlit buildings and hazy night sky. Even without proof, she knew that Hiwatari-kun's efforts had more to do with Dark-san than she could then understand. The fact that Niwa-kun and Dark-san had some connection of their own confirmed as much, because Hiwatari-kun had befriended Niwa-kun out of the blue at the same time Dark-san had appeared.

Whatever the connection, Niwa-kun certainly had no interest in capturing Dark-san—those two had worked together too seamlessly when helping her escape Insomnia. That fact showed yet another gaping hole within her theories, however, and she could not resolve all of the random bits of information she had discovered.

Startled from her thoughts by the sight of a familiar shadow streaking across the sky, she caught her breath and straightened her shoulders, her other hand lifting to press against the balcony door. Dark-san had left a warning note at the museum, but he ought to have made off with his prize earlier than midnight. Craning her neck, she strained to follow the distant form of her Phantom Thief, but he wove through the taller buildings, his powerful wings bearing him away from her view.

Before she had fully released another sigh, he shot over the skyline, heading straight for the wisps of cloud overhead, the moonlight finally catching him in a blaze of glory. She sucked in a gasp as she stared at the radiance of his white wings.

The White One.

The white-winged man, who had saved her from certain death more than once but had always vanished without a trace. Though he looked almost like the perfect opposite of Dark-san, he had no desire to be as widely recognized, since he had hardly been seen by anyone before. Nor did he seem to have an interest in stealing artworks, though he still only ever appeared where Dark-san went, following him in the shadows perhaps as much as Hiwatari-kun did, entangling them all in some vast, secretive web, at the heart of which lay the answers she sought.

All of them, interconnected, held together by some secret bond. Perhaps, in the same way that Niwa-kun knew how to work with Dark-san, Hiwatari-kun had worked with the white one before. Or, perhaps...

Her lips parted as she drew in a quavering breath, her eyes widening.

"Hiwatari-kun..."


	130. Nostalgia

**A/N:** We've made it all the way around to another year and I want to thank everyone for continuing to read this serial. Here's to another year to come.

_Natsukashii_ - a warm, sudden feeling of sentimentality in which small things bring back some old, good memories while one remembers the fondness and goodness of that time

**Disclaimer:** They speak of my own material, but that doesn't much count, does it? The definition of "natsukashii" is borrowed from WordStuck's tumblr.

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><p>For an unknown reason, Harada-san had disapproved of his position on the bench outside of the school building and had dragged him over to join her at the base of a sakura, in the shade of its heavy-laden boughs. Though she had ignored every excuse he had offered during the transition, once they had seated themselves side by side against the tree trunk, she had merely tipped her head back and stared at the sky that showed between the leaves, allowing him to resume his reading.<p>

Silence, however, never lasted long around Harada-san.

"Remember when you fell out of this tree, Hiwatari-kun?"

Though she rolled her head to the side to look at him, he continued to skim the sentences within his book. "Does it matter?"

"I think so," she replied, unperturbed by his lack of proper attention. "It's when I first adopted you."

Lifting a page between his thumb and index finger, as if such a cue would deter her from conversing, he arched his right eyebrow and said blandly, "Wonderful."

Another silence descended briefly, but she interrupted it with a reflective, "We've been through a lot together, haven't we?"

"I suppose," he said, slowly turning the page as he skimmed over the last few words.

"If you go to college again," she remarked lazily, spreading out her hand so she could study her fingernails, "we could have even more fun."

"Fun," he echoed and paused his reading long enough to lift his eyes from the book to her face.

"Uh-huh," she drawled, pleased to have secured his attention, though she managed to refrain from grinning.

After releasing a short sigh through his nose, he lowered his head over his book to resume reading even as he commented dryly, "I find it interesting that you arrived at that conclusion after recalling me to the time when I fell out of this tree."

From the corner of his eye, he saw her bob her head in a sagacious nod as she agreed, "Good times, good times."


	131. Idiom

**A/N:** I found the idiom and could hardly resist the chance to make it into a drabble. The internet is a wonderful resource for inspiration, when used properly. As an aside, though, my newest SatoRisa story goes up to-day because of a certain person's birthday. We'll say this little bit of fluff is the second birthday present, too.

**Disclaimer:** I am a literary magpie. It's actually a fun occupation.

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><p>On such a day of poetic tranquility, her impressions of emotion and fancy reigned, untainted by the mundane worries and crippling distractions of everyday life. All her thoughts passed through her consciousness with intense clarity, unleashing a keener perception of each detail around and within her, exposing her soul to the intricacies of a beautiful and dangerous world. Restlessness chased her gaze as far as the cloud-streaked sky to probe that distant barrier of her existence, the unreachable canopy wreathed in sunlight and shadow.<p>

"One day, three autumns," Risa murmured, her face tilted upward to release the words to the heavens of familiar azure.

"Hmm?"

Slowly, she shifted her gaze to rest on the boy seated beside her on the park bench, his head still bent over the sketchbook balanced on his lap. With a silent exhale, she relaxed against the bench, then admitted, "I just read that yesterday."

He only hummed softly in reply, then glanced once more at the park's scenery before he resumed drawing in silence, leaving her to simply watch him. Ignoring the picture unfolding beneath his pencil, she studied his profile and the slight crease of concentration that thawed his impassive face. Every angle and curve of his visage, as well as every faint glimmer of expression, had become familiar to her and impressed upon her mind that he did have a certain beauty, regardless of how often he hid himself behind icy shields. His apparent disinterest in everything around him had convinced her so long ago that she would never understand him, much less want to try—yet so much had changed, more than she had ever believed possible.

"Yeah," she sighed, shaking her head as she lifted her gaze to the sky again. "I don't understand it, either."

"It is a Chinese idiom," he said, his pencil still scratching over the paper, "which implies that you miss someone enough that three years seem to pass for each day you spend apart."

"I know that," she replied, sliding down in her seat to rest her head against the back of the bench. "I just don't know how I can feel that way about someone as closed-off as you."


	132. Glitter

**A/N:** For the rest of this year (and a little ways into 2015), I'll be unearthing some old stories that never made it up here. At first, that was due to the fact that they were backup material, then because they were... well, older. The writing isn't quite the level I turn out now, so it would take a lot of effort to prepare them. Still, I wasn't going to ditch them, because I did like the stories. So, a glimpse into the past with this one... Have fun.

**Disclaimer:** My involvement here is minimal. Even the artwork description isn't really mine.

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><p>"<em>Whereas the tang is detailed with an openwork dragon design, near the blade rests a relief figure of a tiger, its mouth open, its tail curled, and wore my plaid skirt for her date after all.<em>"

Satoshi blinked once at the open book on his desk, then shifted his gaze to the girl perched on a chair she had dragged nearer so she could rest comfortably beside him as she talked his ear off. Despite the fact that he had made no pretense of listening to her, she continued animatedly, content to have someone in her general vicinity as she nattered.

Though he rarely found any cause to lose his temper, especially while at school, he found himself uncommonly irritated. As usual, he had skipped breakfast, but he had discovered once at school that he had forgotten his lunch, and a headache that refused to leave had set in during the morning hours. Those trifling annoyances, coupled with Harada-san's unwanted and equally unavoidable decision to sit with him while they waited for their classes to resume, had succeeded in wholly exasperating him.

"Harada-san," he said in monotone, interrupting her tangent about how her older sister disregarded her advice to forgo the plaid skirt and wear a floral skirt instead, "if you do not mind, I would appreciate the chance to finish reading this paragraph before class begins."

"What is it, anyway?" she inquired innocently, somehow managing to entirely miss his point.

"A book detailing some artworks unearthed in China," he replied, outwardly unruffled. "Might I finish now?"

Leaning back in her chair, she adopted an unusually unladylike slouch and folded her arms over her chest. "Sure. But what do I do?"

"Stand on your head," he suggested dryly as he picked up the book, searching for his place, and she, with a suppressed snort, shoved his shoulder. He spared her an indifferent glance, but she tucked her arms around herself again and turned to stare at the blackboard behind the teacher's desk.

For a blissful minute, silence descended between them, disturbed only by the rustling turn of a page or the creak of her chair as she shifted. Peace could not last, however, and his concentration shattered as her finger snaked under his eye and poked at his nose. Recoiling, he shot her a bewildered look, and she yanked her hand back, her eyes widening in almost apologetic surprise of her own.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as if to shove away the lingering sensation of her breaching his personal space.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, huddling her arm against herself even as she pointed toward his face. "It's just that you have some dry skin."

His surprise dwindled into wryness and he rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Yes, Harada-san. I happened to spend a good deal of time outside yesterday. I burn easily."

"And now you're peeling," she added sympathetically with a nod in agreement. "Just a bit."

"That does not give you the right to touch my face," he replied, sitting back in his chair and using the book to shield himself from her while he read.

"You should take care of it, before it gets worse," she ventured before he could find where he had left off, but he pointedly ignored her as he readjusted the placement of his glasses.

After half a minute, she interrupted once more. "It's annoying."

Lowering the book to his desk again, he lifted his head, then turned slowly to pin her with a blank stare. "_You_, Harada-san, are annoying."

Unaffected by his statement, she shot upright, her expression brightening, and she suggested proudly, "I have some moisturizing lotion in my bag! You can use that."

Before he could decline, she sprang to her feet and darted over to her desk and the bag she had left crumpled on its chair. Talking to herself under her breath, she rummaged through her things until she swept the desired bottle out of her bag and, with a self-satisfied smile, returned to his side to offer him the moisturizer. He released a slow sigh, resigned to his fate, and took the bottle from her hands, then removed the lid.

Fortunately, the lotion had only a faint scent that did nothing to exacerbate his headache nor irritate his skin.

"Hiwatari-kun."

As he finished screwing the lid back on the bottle, he glanced up at the girl again and furrowed his brow as he noticed the slight, anxious widening of her eyes.

After a brief struggle to form a few words, she winced a little and held out her hands in a pacifying gesture, saying, "Don't freak out, okay?"

"I rarely 'freak out,' Harada-san," he replied coolly, though his sense of foreboding increased.

"No one will even notice at first glance, after all, right?" she laughed, unnerved, then coughed quietly to clear her throat. "You should go wash your face now."

With precise, unhurried movements, he closed his book and pushed his chair back from the desk. "Why?"

"Uh... well... I kind of... _forgot_..."

Rising to his feet, he trailed his fingers over the book's gold calligraphy title. "What is on my face, Harada-san?"

"It—honestly, Hiwatari-kun!" she burst out at last, picking up the tube of lotion to present to him as evidence. "I didn't remember that it had glitter in it, really!"

Waving off her stammered apologies, he did not allow her to detain him as he walked out of the classroom with a measured tread. Once in the hall, he removed his glasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket as he strode toward the restroom.

How exactly had he managed to let his guard down around someone like Risa Harada? Perhaps idiocy was more contagious than he had thought.


	133. Someone

**A/N:** Ah, this one was so fluffy I loved writing it. To think, Riku could give me a fluff-indulgence like this...

**Disclaimer:** Until the world decides to make a parody of the current way things are, I own nothing.

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><p>"Hey. Hiwatari-kun."<p>

Swinging the shoe locker door shut, he glanced over, eyebrows arching slightly, as the older Harada twin approached him. "Yes, Harada-san?"

"About my sister," she announced as she halted beside him, her chin angling up as if to steel herself beneath his unwavering gaze.

After waiting a moment for her to continue, he tilted his head toward her and queried, "Is she all right?"

"Oh," she said, blinking rapidly as she realized the poor introduction she had offered, then she bobbed her head once. "Yes—yes, she's fine." She paused momentarily to gather her scattered thoughts before she met his eyes again, her brow knitted in determination. "I was just wondering why someone like you would be friends with her."

Arching his right eyebrow, he echoed in monotone, "Like me."

"Ah—no. Not like that," she stammered, her firmness dissolving into embarrassment. "It's just you're so... withdrawn from other people, and she seems like the sort of person you'd dislike. A lot."

His eyebrow inched a fraction higher, but he waited for the girl to offer a more concrete reason for her unexpected interrogation. He had no intention of explaining himself and doubted she had the persistence of her younger twin to extract an answer from him, even though she doubtless knew that his taciturn nature could be circumvented. Still, the fact that she had taken a sudden interest in his friendship with her sister suggested something had changed abruptly, and he wished to know what.

"She's noisy, demanding, and always ready to interrupt you," she continued, unaware of his judgment, and waved her hands through the air as she tried to think of some better explanation, only to give up with a small sigh. "She's needy."

"How flattering," he said, calm enough that the sarcasm in his tone slipped by unnoticed.

"Well, she's very sweet and loyal, too, when you get to know her," she replied, her mouth pinching a little as she grappled with the situation that had clearly not panned out the way she had anticipated. "I just want to know why you make an exception for her."

Silent, he stared at the girl in front of him, studying the contours of her face that seemed so familiar, the colouration and shape of her countenance nearly identical to his friend's. Beyond their dissimilar haircuts, they truly did appear almost exactly alike.

How strange, then, that they had nothing distinctive in common beyond their appearance.

"Because, Harada-san," he said at last, turning away from her to start down the hall towards his first class, "she is not someone I can ignore."

Before he reached the corner of the hall, she called out, voice almost defiant, "You should call her Risa, you know."

Pausing mid-step, he glanced over his shoulder at her, then looked forward again, a slight smirk quirking one corner of his lips.

Maybe not entirely different.

"Perhaps someday."


	134. Harp

**A/N:** Another old story, but one I still really enjoy. I'm using a lesser-known definition of the word, referencing a part of a lamp that holds up the lampshade.

**Disclaimer:** I own the lamp. I'll be rich and famous someday, if only a genie decides to live in it because he can't find one better shaped for his needs.

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><p>Perched on the couch armrest, Risa spun her chopsticks thoughtfully through the soba her host had provided.<p>

"You know, Hiwatari-kun, you're a worse cook than I am," she said reflectively as she lifted a few overdone noodles out of her bowl. "I didn't think it was possible for me to be better at something than you."

"If you did not want to eat my food, you should not have asked for lunch," the insulted cook replied, even-keeled, without looking up from his own dish.

"I didn't expect you to be this bad," she continued, unaffected by his logic, and returned to studying the limp soba dangling from her chopsticks.

"If you can do better, feel free," he offered, leaning back against the couch and shooting her a wry glance. "Only try to avoid burning down my kitchen."

With a flutter of her eyelashes, she held out her arm and wiggled the bowl of slowly disintegrating soba at him. "Would you prefer I drown it?"

Even though she knew he had an intimidating glare, the one he gave her held the full potency of his eyes that he usually hid behind glasses; she wondered if he would appreciate hearing that he could freeze the Sahara Desert with one such unshielded look.

As alarming as he appeared, she could not help but voice one final jab. "Or do you prefer to save the drowning for your meals only?"

"Very well," he said, reaching out to take the bowl from her hands. "If that is how you feel about th—"

"Hey, no!" she exclaimed, lifting the dish above her head and pushing his arm away with her free hand. "I'm not finished!"

"Finished eating or finished insulting?" he asked dryly, rising to his feet and reaching for her food again.

Shoving her hand against his chest, she leaned as far back as she dared into the empty space behind her, chirruping, "I'm not sure. I haven't made up my mind yet."

At his third attempt to take her lunch, she pitched to the side and succeeded in keeping hold of her bowl at the cost of losing her seat, and with a horrified squeak, she slipped off the couch arm and threw her own arms out to catch herself. Before the world turned upside down, she realized that Hiwatari-kun had swept her bowl of bitterly critiqued noodles from her hand and, a split second later, she felt his left arm snap around her shoulders, stopping her fall.

Unfortunately, he did not have a third hand.

Her sigh of relief transformed into a sharp inhale as something shattered on the ground behind her, and she whipped her head around in alarm to see the lampshade wobbling to a stop amid fragments of glass and ceramic, the shade's split harp dangling limply from the broken stand.

After gaping a moment in stunned silence, she righted herself and slithered down to sit on the couch cushion, belatedly assuming proper etiquette. Guiltily, she lifted her eyes to her friend's impassive countenance and, though his gaze remained on the shattered lamp, she ventured a sheepish smile at him.

"You broke my lamp," he stated blankly, finally looking over at her.

"I didn't mean to!" she cried, smile disappearing, then snatched back the bowl he had saved. "It's your fault for trying to steal my lunch!"

Unmoved by her defense, he glanced at the mess and declared, "You need to buy me a new one."

"I most certainly will not!" she huffed, then rose to her feet, tilting her chin upward in regal condescension. "If you would like to push the issue, I shall be burning down your kitchen in an attempt to make an edible lunch."


	135. Platitude

**A/N:** I cannot believe I missed my deadline. I prepared this story last month so it wouldn't get lost in the shuffle of NaNo, and then, whaddya know, it got lost in the shuffle of NaNo. I'm going to be extremely right into next year, so this might not be my last slightly-late update, but I expect to be less forgetful, at least.

**Disclaimer:** I know they aren't mine, regardless of my bad memory.

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><p>As he rounded the last corner leading out of the hallway to the school's front doors, Satoshi spotted Harada-san standing where he had left her, leaning against the wall with her hands behind her back, an ill-suppressed smirk hovering at the corners of her mouth.<p>

"So?" she lilted, pressing off the wall to rejoin him, her every movement a flounce as poorly disguised as her smirk. "How'd it go?"

"The ambiguity of 'it' leaves me incapable of giving an accurate answer," he replied blandly, drawing to a halt as she reached his side.

"The confession!" she exclaimed, too impatient to scold him for his obstinate behaviour. "Don't leave me in suspense."

"Suspense of what?"

"What _happened_, genius," she said, exasperated at last by his stubbornness.

"Very well," he replied, then resettled his book bag under his arm as he launched into a blunt summary of what occurred. "I walked with the girl into the empty room as requested. She offered me the letter and asked me to accept. I told her I did not have the time for—"

"You did _what_?" she interrupted, her eager expression lost to disbelief.

Well aware that she had heard him, he made no effort to clarify his activities; he had little concern with her disapproval, whatever he had done to earn it.

She sputtered for a moment, conflicted, then squared her shoulders as she declared, "I'm going to go get her, so you can apologize and—"

"I will do no such thing," he said calmly, unperturbed even as she began to flail her arms through the air, her hands swinging dangerously near his face as she gesticulated.

"You didn't even give her a chance! You should at least _try_ to give her a chance."

"No."

"I'm going to get h—"

His hand darted out to close over her arm as she turned around and he said, voice still monotone, "Stop, Harada-san."

Though she did not try to pull free, her surprised expression shifted as she set her jaw and a determined knot formed on her brow, but her voice remained calm and quiet, almost an appeal. "You think you're so smart, Hiwatari-kun, but sometimes you have to take a _chance_ on people." She paused for a breath, then admitted, "It's what I did with you."

"I cannot afford to take a chance," he answered simply, releasing her arm.

"Yes, you can. You need more people to care about you, and if she's willing to try, I think you should let her," she said, quietly determined. "You'll thank me for this later."

"I already have enough to blame on you, Harada-san."

Without acknowledging his joke, she leaned forward earnestly and pleaded, "Just _try_, all right? You'll never know how much you might end up liking her."

Her words evoked the memory of her failed relationship with Dark, but he dismissed the thought and said simply, "You know better than anyone that I will not try. She will be left to exhaust herself and her hopes, and I will push her away."

Before she could voice argument, he lifted one shoulder in a shrug and concluded, "I am too young to consider involving myself in a relationship for more than amusement's sake—and apart from that, you would have to refrain from visiting me or she would be jealous."

Surprised by the notion, she drew back a step and considered the prospect, then narrowed her eyes at him. "That's not fair. You're trying to make me selfish."

"Whatever works."

After another brief pause, a smile struggled to spread across her face. "You know... you did sort of say we act like a couple."

"You never leave me alone," he replied noncommittally, then turned on his heel to stride out the door, and she sprang forward to fall into step beside him.

"No, I don't leave you alone," she agreed and flashed him an arch grin. "And I won't."

"Which is why you are walking beside me, instead of anyone else."

At his words, her grin softened into a pleased smile, gentle enough to be confiding, and he could not help but smile in return.


	136. Sunflower

**A/N:** Here's an old one that I wrote as a little contest between myself and a friend who needed creative outlet. I hadn't intended for it to be for this series, but it fit too well.

**Disclaimer:** Only the idea to make the two spend time together is mine.

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><p>"Mou…"<p>

After waiting a moment to see if her pouting would elicit a response from the one seated beside her, Risa decided she had to attempt a more dramatic interruption of his drawing and thus threw herself back against the bus bench, groaning. "Nnnngggggh."

Hiwatari-kun did not look away from his sketchbook, but offered the small consolation of acknowledging her pain. "Is something the matter, Harada-san?"

"Yes, something's the matter," she replied tersely, uncertain whether his question came from some ill-timed sense of sarcasm. "I'm frozen and you're ignoring me."

"Hmm."

Since he still denied her discomfort proper attention, she graciously expounded on her condition instead of smacking his arm to disturb his sketch more than the continual jostling of the bus already had. "My feet are so cold my toes are burning. I keep trying to rub my hands back to life but they're no better off than my feet."

Making no effort to reply, he kept his focus trained on his pencil as he stroked it across the page, and she slumped, defeated, against the seat, too cold and out of sorts to continue pestering him. Though she appreciated his artwork when he chose to show it to her, she wondered why, of all the days for him to decide he wanted to do nothing but draw, he had to choose one that coincided with a bad day for her.

"What are you drawing, any—" she began, leaning forward to get a better look at his sketch, but he stopped working long enough to tilt the pad away from her, pulling it in toward his chest.

"You could always remove your mittens," he suggested abruptly, shifting a little closer to the edge of his seat and angling his back toward the aisle to better shield his sketch. "You have probably made them too moist to retain heat, since you keep breathing on them."

Her surprise that he hid his drawing faded into annoyance and, scowling at him, she swallowed back the desire to ask him why he could not have suggested that earlier when she had brought up the fact that she might freeze to death. Clearly, drawing was more important to him than whether or not the dampened fabric gave her frostbite. Perhaps she could disturb his focus by throwing her fuzzy mittens at his elegant, snobby nose.

"You're frustrating sometimes, you know that?" she gibed, peeling the now-offensive fleece from her hands, but she did not receive so much as a hum in recognition.

After pocketing her mittens, she pulled the sleeves of her coat over her cold fingers and huddled down, contemplating how Hiwatari-kun could have wholly mastered how to be helpful and unhelpful at the exact same moment in time. She might even forgive him that overwhelming personality trait enough that she would stop complaining, if he would only condescend to talk to her.

Probably, anyway.

"Neeeh... Why is it so cold?" she muttered, extending her fingers out of her sleeves to examine her whitened flesh. "There isn't even any snow. What's the point of this weather?"

Still unable to provoke a reply from her companion, she turned her attention to briskly rubbing her hands together before she huddled back into her coat, grumbling, "I wish winter would be over already. It's been going on too long and I'm frozen."

Whoever planned the field trip, she decided, had a vendetta against the students; anyone with pure intentions would not have stuck the poor children in a bus without heat on such a blustery winter day.

After reflecting a moment more, she reached two fingers into her pocket to see if her mittens felt dry enough to wear again. "If only the cold would go away."

"You said you like the cold," Hiwatari-kun interjected at last, but even though he had finally volunteered a comment of his own, she merely scowled at him.

"If you had been listening to me, you would know that I'm sick and tired of so much cold without snow," she huffed, whisking her hands fully out of her sleeves again so she could fold her arms over her chest in a properly annoyed fashion. "My feet are going to be ice cubes before we stop, too, so I'll have to skate instead of walk."

With a slight smirk, he remarked blandly, "While I cannot deny that would be an amusing sight to see, were it possible..."

Though she smacked the back of her hand against his arm, he only arched his eyebrow, then calmly flipped his pencil over to erase the unwanted mark she had caused, finishing his previous thought without a change in tone, "You will find that once you are walking again, your blood flow will increase and help you stay warm. Still, Harada-san, you are not acting quite yourself."

"Oh, really?" she grumbled under her breath, rolling her eyes. "Whatever led you to _that_ astute observation?"

Unperturbed by her mockery, he responded in a quiet, measured voice, "When the cold passes, you may complain that there is not enough snow. When the heat of summer comes, you may complain about not being able to stay cool." He quieted as he brushed the bits of eraser off the page, then resumed drawing, unhurried. "Every kind of weather allows for some kind of complaint. Even so, years are short and you are given a variety of weather with every passing season—a variety you know you enjoy."

"That doesn't change the fact that I'm _cold_," she insisted, hoping against hope to deflect whatever he meant to reveal to her with his little speech. If he had a moral in mind, she did not particularly want to swallow it.

Perhaps she could hit him again and he would stop. She would keep her options open, at least.

"No, it does not," he said, blessedly ignorant of her meandering contemplations. "The cold is not something you can change. Knowing you, however, you will find some way to be your normal, cheerful self regardless."

Sinking against the bench once more, she stared at him and wondered if she wished to swallow the lesson or simply punch him; his moral had come wrapped neatly inside a compliment despite the subtle lecture.

Before she could decide the proper course of action, he lifted his eyes from the paper, somehow appearing amused even without the slightest trace of a smile. "Harada-san."

"What...?" she asked slowly, hoping he would say something that would allow her to feel the helpful warmth of anger.

"Here we are."

Startled, she swiveled towards the window, then broke into a smile as relief swept away her uncomfortable contemplation as she looked over the parking lot. Before she could rise to her feet to hurry out of the frigid bus, however, she felt something brush against her hand.

Hiwatari-kun, already standing, met her surprised gaze with a mild smile. "I am sure you will manage to be content with winter again once you are inside the heated building."

When he disappeared into the crowd of students filling the aisle, she glanced down at her lap where the page from his sketchbook bowed between her leg and the bench, the drawing exposed to her at last. Perfectly lifelike even without a hint of colour, the sunflower consumed most of the sheet with its impressive intricacy and beauty, but the few words in his familiar handwriting, jotted on the corner of the paper, arrested her attention:

_Summer comes again. To-day does not._

Her gaze trailed over the flower for a moment, absorbing the detail he had employed, then she huffed a sigh and stashed the picture inside her book bag as she rolled her eyes.

No matter the season, Hiwatari-kun would always be his confusing, annoying self—but she doubted she could like him any other way.


	137. Ornament

**A/N:** Here's wishing everyone a very merry Christmas and whatever other holidays celebrated at this time of year. Thanks for another great year, readers.

**Disclaimer:** I'll only own it if Yukiru-sensei grants her series to me for Christmas, but I don't see that happening.

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><p>"You should help more, since you're over here."<p>

Lazily shifting his gaze from the snow-covered street beyond the Haradas' living room window to his friend where she knelt by herself amid old cardboard boxes of Christmas decorations, Satoshi leaned back against the couch arm and pointed out dryly, "You _are_ the one who forced me to come."

"So I'll force you to help, too," she proclaimed, then held up two peppermint-striped ornaments for him to take.

"I believe I will simply watch," he said and folded his arms over his chest, eyebrows arching slightly.

Without arguing the point further, she rose to her knees and shuffled toward the Christmas tree behind her, gaze scanning its branches for the best places to hang the ornaments she had chosen. After settling one on a low branch and the second on the other side of the tree, she crawled back to the boxes to pull out another bauble, then burst out in delight, "Ah! This ornament matches your eyes."

His right eyebrow lifted as she pulled out a dark blue orb and presented it to him proudly, the ornament swinging from the wire hook, and after he examined her finding, he remarked sarcastically, "How wonderful."

"How does it feel to have blue eyes?" she asked abruptly as she bent over the box again, her free hand rummaging through the tissue paper and decorations.

"The same as having eyes of any other colour, I imagine."

"That can't be right," she said, distracted by her search still. After a moment more, she pulled out a matching blue ornament and lifted both to dangle before her eyes. "Nope. Everything looks much bluer."

"Startling," he replied in monotone, rolling his eyes even as a fond smirk threatened to show at the left corner of his mouth.

"Give me your glasses," she demanded as she dropped the hooks over her left index finger to free her right hand to thrust out towards him. "I'm going to cosplay you."

Again, his eyebrows shot upward, then he shook his head, a smirk showing at last. "I think not."


	138. Palingenesis

**A/N:** Happy New Year all. This is a wonderful time to contemplate new beginnings and working with the old. May this year be a time of wonder and revelation.

**Disclaimer:** I own but a dented soda pop can. Woe is me.

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><p>As she drew to a stop beside her classmate, Risa slipped her hands into the pockets of her winter coat and asked, "What are you doing with that?"<p>

Hiwatari-kun did not glance up from the dented aluminum beverage can or the small blade in his hands, and simply replied, "Nothing in particular."

"You've been working on it for a while," she said in the hope that she could prompt him into answering her original question, her gaze attentively following the little slivers of lines he cut into the curved metal.

"I saw it sitting there and had nothing better to do with my time," he explained in his typical, illuminating fashion.

"Well? What are you doing with it?" she repeated, somewhat more impatient, then shot him a half-glare of warning. "And if you say 'nothing in particular' again, I'll punch you."

Unperturbed, he slid his knife through the empty drink can as he remarked wryly, "How violent."

"Hiwatari-kuuun," she whined, bouncing on the balls of her feet to vent her mounting frustration. He of all people ought to know that the more someone evaded her questions, the more desperate she became to have the answer.

"I am turning it..." he began, promisingly enough, but fell silent again as he finished slicing the can with a twisting flick of his wrist, then put away the blade. Before she could beg him to continue, he looked up at her while he pulled the can at both ends, revealing an interconnected line of tiny metal shapes and swirls, and finished his thought with the words, "... into something new."

"Aaah," she exclaimed, yanking her hands from her pockets so she could clasp them together in front of herself, "how did you do that?"

A small smirk threaded its way across his mouth. "I looked at something damaged and saw something worthwhile."

"It's amazing," she insisted, her enthusiasm manifesting in a bright grin, but he responded only with a cryptic smile, his eyelids lowering as he stared at her. For one moment, her chest constricted as she wondered if he had meant more by his words than the mere transformation of the discarded can, then she forced herself to relax and smile anew.

"It was definitely worth the effort, Hiwatari-kun."


	139. Randan

**A/N:** I've always liked the Second Hand of Time arc, and particularly the fact that Saga comes back. I wonder if we'll ever see him again?

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Just having fun, making noise.

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><p>After a slow but painfully obvious approach from her seat in the front of the classroom back to his desk, Harada-san eased herself into a nearby chair and announced, "They're so noisy."<p>

Satoshi lifted his gaze to Saehara and Saga, who stood in front of the blackboard, locked in a heated quarrel about how to manage the play, _Ice and Snow_. Though the distracting argument showed no sign of ceasing, he cared little about the spectacle, since he had already managed to finish all of his homework without difficulty.

Looking back down at his notebook, he answered her with a wry, "Yes, I have noticed as much."

"Can't you make them stop?" she asked in distaste, her brow pinching and her mouth pursing.

Shifting his gaze to her and arching his eyebrows, he asked with a mild hint of surprise, "What do you expect me to do?"

"I don't know," she admitted, hiking her shoulders in a shrug. "Give them a glare that could freeze the sun?"

His eyelids drooped as he stared at her, then he turned back to his desk and replied dryly, "You are very amusing, did you know?"

"You noticed that, too?" she asked, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a toss of her chin. "You're on a roll to-day."

"As are you."

Encouraged by the teasing, she sat forward, earnest, and suggested, "Maybe we could see if that'll hold out long enough for us to stop them?"

He shot another look towards the two cacophonous students, then shook his head slightly. "No."

"No?" she echoed in bewilderment, sitting back in her chair. "But aren't you annoyed?"

With a slight smirk, he picked up his pencil and began to write in his notebook once more, if only for an excuse to remain aloof as he said, "I have practice in ignoring loud nuisances."

Instead of huffing, she set her hand on his desk and said with dignity, "I will choose to pretend I have no idea what you're talking about."

"How gracious," he said, reaching up to resettle his glasses on the bridge of his nose and position his hand to disguise his growing smirk.


	140. Bunny

**A/N:** Here's another really old story. I received the prompt back in 2012, and wrote it not too long after receiving it, but I never did manage to edit it for posting. This proved a fun glimpse back into the earlier period of their relationship when I was writing them. I find it amusing how much the two have progressed in just this series of oneshots.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine, not even the stuffies.

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><p>Bounding down the stairs two at a time as she headed for the front door, Risa shouted over her shoulder, "I got it, Riku! I'll tell him you'll be ready in just a minute!"<p>

Instead of opening the door to encounter Niwa-kun's friendly, smiling face, however, she found Hiwatari-kun waiting on the porch, impassive, and she stared at him a moment, bewildered, before remembering that she still wore her shabby cleaning clothes. She glanced down at herself, self-conscious, only to realize she still held her old stuffed bunny in her hand.

With a forced laugh, she closed the door a little more and tossed her bunny behind herself, towards the stairs. "Hiwatari-kun! I didn't think it'd be you."

"Yes, I can see that," he agreed, unruffled by her reception, and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Niwa happened to meet me on the street and asked if I could drop by to tell your sister that he will be late. His mother needed him to run an errand."

"Oh... I'll go tell her," she said, then hesitated a second before opening the door to him again. "Please, come in."

As she left him behind in the entryway, she shot a quick glance across the floor to see where her plush rabbit had fallen, then shook her head and hurried up the stairs. She should not have panicked because he saw her holding a once-beloved stuffed animal. Though he always made her feel like a child, whether implying it in his words or looks, she would deny him the chance to belittle her for the old toy. She had found the bunny while clearing out things from under her bed—already a treasure trove of childhood possessions—but seeing her stuffed animal had brought back all of the memories she had relived with Riku earlier when they had rediscovered Riku's bear.

The bunny had not left her hands since she had unearthed it, not until Hiwatari-kun had arrived—but she refused to let herself care if he looked down on her for carrying a ratty stuffed animal. He could never understand, being so stuffy himself.

After Risa informed her yet unprepared sister about her boyfriend's delay, she descended the stairs slowly, her hand gliding along the wall, and she ordered herself not to mind what Hiwatari-kun thought about her appearance or her discarded stuffed animal; she must simply to see him out the door with a polite smile.

"Thank you for bringing the message," she said as she came in sight of him again, hardly finishing the sentence before she tensed at the realization that he had picked up her bunny during her absence.

"It was no trouble," he replied, almost dismissive, as he turned the stuffed animal around for inspection. "Is this yours?"

"Yes," she said slowly, drawing to a halt a little away from him. "It's an old toy."

"Indeed. It is rather dirty," he remarked, then held it out to her. "Have you tried washing it?"

"Not really," she answered as she took the bunny from him, hoping to sound unaffected. "It doesn't matter. It's just a stupid toy."

His eyebrows twitched upward the slightest fraction and pulled together. "It meant a great deal to you before, did it not?"

Lowering her gaze from his face to the rabbit, she tightened her fingers around the worn fabric that held a thousand childhood memories, good and bad, in every rub and fibre.

After a moment of silence, he posed another question. "It was given to you by someone special, yes?"

"My grandmother..." she murmured with a little nod.

"Judging by its state alone, it was something important to you when you were younger, and it was given to you by someone you love," he said quietly, his voice drawing her to look back at him, and the calm earnestness of his eyes riveted her gaze. "Treasure it, Harada-san, if only for what it represents. Let it remind you of the life that you have been blessed to have."

With that, he turned to the door and pulled it open, then paused to glance back over his shoulder. "I will see you tomorrow at school."

In mute fascination, she watched him step outside as she wondered how those words had found their way out of his mouth, then she started forward and caught the door before it fell shut behind him. Yanking the door wide open again, she leaned out after him and called, "Hiwatari-kun, wait."

Not more than a few steps from the door, he paused and looked back, his left eyebrow arched in question.

Clutching her bunny to herself, she smiled at him and shook her head, half-laughing, "You really are something special, you know that?"


	141. Intervention

**A/N:** I skipped out on doing a Valentine's Day themed story, in a way, but I think that this will have more than enough fluff to make up for ignoring the specific holiday.

**Disclaimer:** I only experiment with what could happen when the real author resumes her duties.

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><p>Risa stared at the card she held, its edges worn from crisp corners to fraying nubs because of her constant fingering, and she found herself wondering what exactly had prompted her to think that impersonating his arch nemesis would help.<p>

Her gaze drifted back to Satoshi's front door, taking in the building's pale, formal appearance that so well mirrored that of its resident. Even in the bitter end of winter, she could not conceive how her friend managed to look quite so haggard.

Clutching the card again, she marched up the steps and scowled at the locked door. Even if her choice in how to fix the situation did not meet the level of foresight and brilliance that Satoshi put into his work for protecting the museum, she had to start somewhere.

After a moment of deliberation, she crouched and slid the edge of the paper under the bottom of the door, wiggling the note into place as best she could, then she rose and settled her hands on her hips.

"What are you doing, Harada-san?"

Though she had not expected anyone to find her, she had expected Satoshi least of all, and with a strangled exclamation, she spun around to face him, her eyes wide. "Hiwatari-kun! What are you doing here?"

Instead of pointing out that they were at his apartment, he stooped and picked up the card she had just placed under his door. His expression blank, he studied the warning letter in silence, and she fidgeted, uncomfortable, again wondering if she ought not to have imitated Dark-san when trying to help Satoshi.

"What is this?" he asked at long last, looking up at her coolly, without betraying the slightest hint regarding his opinion of the note.

After hesitating a second longer, she burst out, "Somebody had to steal you, Hiwatari-kun! If you won't take a holiday of your own free will, I'll make sure you get one."

"I told you, I—"

"Don't need one, I know," she finished for him, then caught her breath before she grabbed his sleeve. "That's not good enough, not for a master thief."

"Master thief," he echoed, finally using his familiar deadpan once again.

Unable to keep back a grin, she pulled him away from the apartment. "Yes, of course. So now it's time for some hot food to start us off—and I'll pay."

"Pay for both of us?" he asked, his left eyebrow rising. "This is something worth seeing."

She broke out in a laugh, delighted, because whether he humoured her or not mattered little; if she could steal him away from his exhausting life for a moment, that would be enough.


	142. Reckling

**A/N:** I figured it was time again for pure dialogue. These are actually challenging to write, I find, because once I let the characters just start talking, they have a hard time stopping, and I'm not sure anyone wants to read a novel of just dialogue here.

**Disclaimer:** All I do is run around and look for fun words. Nobody shoot me.

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><p>"You know something?"<p>

"Several things, actually."

"You know what I mean. I was just going to say that underdogs are really annoying."

"Ah."

"You know, the characters that are looked down on or have some difficulty they have to overcome, but then they always manage to win? That's so annoying."

"You would not think so, were you an underdog."

"Oh yeah? How do you know I'm not?"

"Harada-san, you happen to be one of the most popular girls in school—not to mention someone intelligent and stubborn enough to get whatever she wants. You hardly fit into the category of 'underdog.'"

"Why, Hiwatari-kun, you called me pretty."

"I did no such thing."

"Yes, you did."

"What confusing a place, the female mind."

"Oh, come on, you know you think I'm pretty."

"If I do, then I do, and that has nothing to do with my comment."

"Do you?"

"Harada-san, I know a death trap when I see it."

"What, I look like a death trap?"

"You are luring me into one with this conversation, so I intend to stop, now, while alive."

"So I'm ugly?"

"Clever, Harada-san, but I am not going to play."

"Just tell me what you think, Hiwatari-kun."

"I rarely tell you that."

"Oh, so I am pretty?"

"Harada-san."

"Hee. You're so easy to tease. You know that, right?"

"That is one of the things I know, yes."


	143. Fluff

**A/N:** Here's another ancient story that I wrote, which took a ton of revising to bring up to current quality. Hopefully after a couple of years, I can say I'd need to do the same sort of work on what I produce now... Though honestly, I'm just glad I didn't upload this before because the writing had been _horrible_.

**Disclaimer:** This is not for money-making purposes. Just learning, and expressing my appreciation of the two star-crossed friends.

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><p>"Risa's in the family room," the older Harada twin said as she shut the door behind Satoshi, who had bent over in the entryway to remove his shoes. "I think she's doing a puzzle."<p>

"Thank you," he replied and spared her a nod as he set aside his shoes, then headed in the indicated direction as she returned upstairs.

In the living room, the youngest of the Harada household sat cross-legged on the couch, bending forward as she scrutinized a newly begun jigsaw puzzle, her left hand hovering over the edge pieces clustered on the center of the coffee table. She glanced up as he stepped into the room and, at his greeting, the lingering hints of concentration vanished from her face as a wide smile stretched across her mouth.

"Hiwatari-kun, just in time! Come on," she exclaimed, bouncing herself away from the center of the couch so she could pat the vacated cushion. "Sit, sit."

As he obediently lowered himself to sit beside her, he studied the progression of the puzzle: already she had constructed a large portion of the border and had only a few more pieces to join together before she finished the frame.

"It's an old puzzle I found when helping Mom clean out the back room," she volunteered, then gestured to her work with evident pride. "I've been working on it for just half an hour so far. It's a really pretty picture, see?"

She shoved the puzzle box's lid into his hands, and he spared a glance at the image printed on its surface: a table with a white dish of cherries, a matching bowl and pitcher, and a jar filled to bursting with variegated flowers that contrasted with the soft blue and white wall in the background.

"Very nice," he agreed dismissively and replaced the lid on the edge of the table to display the picture as she worked on assembling the jigsaw.

"I found this, too," she announced as she turned to the corner of the couch and grabbed a ratty pillow, then thrust it towards his chest. Arching his eyebrows, he took the pink and white cushion to examine its worn fabric, rubbed down in places to show the matted stuffing inside it, and the frayed remains of the edging that might have once been lace. As he studied the sorry remains, she leaned near his shoulder and explained the significance of the object he held. "It was one of the decorative pillows Riku and I used to have on our bed when we were little. I think Mom threw the others away, but this one escaped."

"Escaped what? Total obliteration?" he asked and passed the lump back to her. "That would doubtless have been a mercy."

After scoffing and smacking him with the insulted pillow, she tucked the old cushion against her stomach and looped her arms over it. "It has sentimental value, Hiwatari-kun. I'm going to keep it."

Not about to argue, he leaned back against the couch and smirked slightly, and she stuck her tongue out at him before turning her attention back to the puzzle.

"So, want to help me?"

"Not particularly," he replied in monotone, but at her flabbergasted look, he quirked his right eyebrow, questioning.

"Don't you _like_ puzzles?" she demanded, her surprise turning into vehemence.

Recognizing her implication that his bent towards the intellectual would predispose him to enjoy any type of puzzle, he smirked again before replying dryly, "It looks boring."

The snub riled her indignation again and she delivered another, harder smack to his head with the pillow, but her action produced the unanticipated result of an explosion. When the last stray bits of stuffing had settled onto the floor and the couch, Harada-san lowered her widened eyes from the mess down to her hand, where the limp pillowcase sagged, a lump of white mesh still clinging to the edge of the gaping hole rent in the case's side.

Though he had sat calmly through the pounding and the subsequent eruption of fuzz, he nearly allowed himself to chuckle at the black astonishment that pervaded her countenance.

As if she had sensed his amusement, she turned her round eyes up to meet his gaze and she worked her jaw a few times before she choked out, "You killed it!"

Less than impressed by her deduction, he responded gravely, "I believe I am the victim in this situation."

Scowling at his theory, she thrust the pillow under his nose and demanded, "Are _you_ the one with a gaping hole in you? Are _your_ guts all over the place?"

"You might be exaggerating the situation slightly," he pointed out as he rose to his feet with the intention to make it out the door before she could produce a scalding reply.

"Where do you think you're going?" she exclaimed, rising halfway from her own seat as he left her side, and he glanced over his shoulder to meet her disbelieving stare.

Mustering all the dignity of his person, an arguably staggering amount, he responded, "I am leaving you in peace to mourn the passing of your loved one."

The alteration of her disbelief to outright astonishment had an almost tangible quality, but just as quickly, she adopted a mode of lofty disgust. "Whatever—I don't need your cynicism over my poor pillow!"

Though he accepted the dismissal, he paused only a couple steps outside the living room and wavered for a few seconds before surrendering to the inevitable with a muffled snort. Without further hesitation, he strode back over to the couch where she had begun to gather the bits of padding, and, taking advantage of her surprise at his return, he removed the torn pillow from her hand.

Defensive, she straightened and tried to peer down at him despite her shorter stature. "What do you think you're doing?"

Aiming a wry look at her, he shoved the remaining fuzz back inside the cushion and said, sarcastic, "I do believe that, with the proper medical attention, the pillow can be revived."


	144. Minute

**A/N:** I wanted to let my readers know that as of my last drabble, Interesting Developments has made it into _the_ top ten most-reviewed D N Angel fanfics on this site. Thank you to all of my reviewers who have followed me through this and helped increase my exposure to new readers. I have the only K-rated story on the most-reviewed page, and all of you have pitched in to help me prove that writing doesn't have to be lewd or bawdy to earn attention. Thank you, everyone.

**Additional note:** I forgot to mention before, but this drabble is a manga tie-in, addressing what might have happened after Risa got home from the not-a-date Hiwatari-kun asked her on at school.

**Disclaimer:** I'm here for the fun of it (and the statistics: those make my brain happy).

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><p>Upon opening the front door to step inside, Risa found herself confronted with Riku's slyly smiling face, and, bewildered by the unexpected sight, she withdrew a step and asked warily, "What is it?"<p>

"I just wanted to know," Riku singsonged, breaking into a delighted, impish grin. "How'd it go?"

"How'd what go?" Risa asked, then narrowed her eyes a little. "Don't tell me you thought, for one minute..."

"That Hiwatari-kun asked you on a date?" her older sister chirruped, then laughed as she jumped away to avoid a punch. "I know you didn't go on a date with him, Risa—I just want to know what happened!" Her mischievous expression shifted to one of earnestness as she leaned forward and asked, "_Did_ he ask you out, officially?"

"No!" Risa exclaimed and yanked one of her shoes off, then brandished it at her twin. "And if you try to start one rumour about that, either, I'll make you regret it."

"I just want to know what happened," Riku moaned, then inched closer again and switched to hopeful pleading. "I heard from Ritsuko that you went with him and you didn't seem so thrilled. What did you guys talk about?"

"Facts," Risa stated abruptly, hardly sure of a better answer. "He wanted to know something, and I helped him, and then I went home."

"What, that's it?" Riku asked, her eyebrows quirking at an odd angle as she tried to understand the explanation. "Couldn't he have just asked you at school?"

"I know!" Risa huffed, ripping her other shoe off her foot and dumping it onto the floor. "I don't know why people think he's a genius when he's that dense. I asked him why he had to invite me out at all, but you know Hiwatari-kun—too stuffy to actually answer a question."

"And that's really all?"

"That's really all," she insisted with a nod, only to pause as she remembered her earlier reaction as she had waited for him to explain himself.

She shook that thought away, since she simply could not tell her sister that she had, for just a minute, thought Satoshi Hiwatari to be rather beautiful.

For a boy.


	145. Dye

**A/N:** A friend suggested the basic idea of this to me a couple years ago, but I kept forgetting to work it in when April rolled around, so now, much belated, it shows its face. Please enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I just have fun with the characters, because they're amazing.

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><p>"Hiiiwataaaaari-kun."<p>

Glancing up from the food he stirred on his little stovetop, he quirked his right eyebrow at Harada-san as she stalked toward him. When she brandished a blue, capped bottle at him, he stared at her blankly, waiting for her to declare the cause of her agitation, but once she slammed the bottle down on the counter beside his elbow, he realized that she had found the hair dye.

"You told me it was natural!" she exclaimed, then crossed her arms over her chest as she glowered at him in displeasure.

Arching his eyebrow a little higher, he met her gaze and inquired, unconcerned, "Is there a problem, Harada-san?"

"You lied to me!" she answered, dropping her arms to fist her hands at her sides. "I can't believe— Actually, I can't believe any of it! Who would have thought that you of all people would actually dye his hair blue? What's your natural hair colour?"

"As I told you," he replied calmly as he turned back to the stove to mix the food heating in the pot. "Blue."

"Blue _now_," she said, snatching the dye from the counter so she could shove it in front of his glasses. "What's its real colour?"

"Blue. I inherited it from my mother," he answered, certain that the mention of his mother would quiet her. "The bottle of dye, however, is for you."

At his unexpected response, she drew back a couple steps, then echoed in bewilderment, "For me?"

"Yes, for you. I knew that, eventually, you would find a chance to snoop through my medicine cabinet," he said blandly, then shot her a smirk. "I bought that on the first of the month, as a matter of fact."

"The first..." she began, only to deflate with a little groan. "It's April, Hiwatari-kun."

"It is, isn't it."

"It's a little late, though, don't you think?"

Smirking a little more, he snatched the bottle of dye out of her hand and spun it around to tap the cap against her nose. "April Fools, Harada-san."


	146. Ribbon

**A/N:** This is the last of my collection of years-old oneshots, and I'm relieved to finally have no more old writing to work on for this series, because it was painful to go over my old stuff. I've improved by leaps and bounds... but that makes me scared to look at the earlier drabbles I have in here. Thank you for bearing with me, everyone.

**Disclaimer:** Just learning to write and I love these characters enough to make them the lessons.

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><p>Perfumed with the scents of the fresh-budding verdancy of the Azumano park, the breeze swelled for a moment around two silent figures seated on the grass, then bled away to leave them in peace. The pair shared only silence alike: one sat erect in statuesque stillness, his sky blue, elegantly wayward hair draped across the large frame of his glasses, further hiding the unfathomable eyes that beheld the park's scenery. Every inch of him, from his pale skin to his serious visage, gave the impression that nothing could stir him from his fixed position. Beside him, her knees pulled up to form an impromptu desk for a sketchbook, sat his companion, who bent with dutiful attention over a picture that bore the faded marks of erroneously placed lead. Her thick, burnished tresses, gathered haphazardly in a ponytail, exposed her dainty neck and kept all but her bangs from dropping over her rich brown eyes. Constantly she shifted in her seat, venting her energies as she slaved over her sketchbook and the mental image she intended to capture. Ever so often, she chewed on her lip or sent an inquiring glance towards her friend before she focused her efforts on the picture again.<p>

"I don't think I'm going to be able to get it right, Hiwatari-kun," she confessed at last, her shoulders slumping as she flicked her pencil onto the ground before flexing her strained fingers, her stare fixed dismally on the disproportionate sketch of a horse and rider.

Tipping himself over towards her shoulder without disturbing his posture, he examined the latest of her efforts and replied without inflection, "You have already improved it, Harada-san. Art takes time."

"Yes, _art_ takes times, but _this_ is not art: this is an eyesore," she stated, then threw her head back and rubbed the heels of her palms over her eyes. "Maybe I should try a different picture."

"If you give up when things do not turn out as you would wish, you will never improve—and thus never stop giving up," he said calmly, and she shot him a glance, then broke into a laugh.

"Oh, sure. Make it a life lesson," she chuckled as she picked up her pencil again. "I just want to get a passing grade." Rolling the pencil between her fingers, she stared at the picture with a wry smile. "All right, I'll finish this one so you don't have to worry about helping me with an entirely different project."

"Thank you; your kindness is overwhelming," he said blandly, and she replied by smearing the graphite on the eraser onto his shirt sleeve. Only sparing the smudge an unperturbed glance, he leaned forward and tapped his finger on the paper propped on her lap as he suggested, "Thicken the horse's neck, and shorten the stirrups to make the rider's legs less pronounced; it will help."

Obedient, she scrubbed away the necessary lines at once, even as her eyes narrowed to examine the picture and imagine his suggestions. "I guess so—I'll just have to make sure I don't make his legs too short."

When she bent over the sketchbook again to resume drawing, she shook her bangs from her eyes, accidentally dislodging the frilled ribbon that held back her hair. Before her hair had the chance to cascade across her shoulders, he snapped out a hand and caught the ribbon, then deftly secured the knot. Though she had startled when he reached over, she did not pull away and simply waited for him to finish before shooting him a grateful smile and saying, "Thanks."

Answering with a mere nod, he set his hands in his lap and let his pensive gaze wander over the park. By the time a minute had passed, she had already returned to her former engrossment, but he could not dismiss the niggling worry that had caught him and fought to crease his forehead. Stealthily, he tilted his head a fraction and observed his companion.

When?

When had things become so relaxed between them? Their first junior high year had begun with them rarely acknowledging each other's existence, much less able to sit in such easy silence together and so comfortable that he could fix her hair without a second thought. Their conversations from before had usually ended with her annoyed with him to varying degrees, despite her amiable inclinations which always restored him to her good graces mere minutes later.

"_Hold nothing dear..."_

He winced slightly, shifting his eyes away from the girl. Those words, etched so deeply into his mind and heart, resurfaced on occasion when he spent his time around the younger Harada twin.

How odd, to think he could hold someone like Risa Harada dear to himself, to think that over so short a time they might have developed a bond that would tie them together.

"Ah! You're right!"

Her excited exclamation snapped him from his contemplations and, before he could look at her, she shoved the sketchbook in front of his face. Once he had pushed it back enough to distinguish the image, he scanned the corrections she had made, then looked at her eager countenance. With a vague smile, he nodded and said, "You have improved it a good deal."

She dazzled him with a smile, causing his own little smile to spread a fraction wider, then he closed his eyes and turned away, her expression engrained already in his mind. Releasing a mute sigh, he shook his head.

Even if the attachment surprised him, he could never truly regret being bound to this incandescent girl.


	147. Wings

**A/N:** Thanks to a new reader of mine, kalmaegi, I was treated to a whole slew of story reviews and a reminder that I had already used the prompt word (and basic idea, shhh) that I had initially for this, so I changed it last-minute. Nice how that worked out.

**Disclaimer:** I write for the joy of writing from the perspective of two of the most adorable OTPs ever.

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><p>As the quiet rustle of his companion turning a page disturbed his reverie, Satoshi stretched out his legs and propped his ankles on the armrest of the living room couch, then resettled the crook of his elbow on the bridge of his nose to fit his arm more snugly against his eyelids to keep out the daylight.<p>

"Does your head hurt less now?" Harada-san asked quietly, her voice still at a short distance to his left.

"Yes," he answered in matching volume. "I told you it was a passing ache."

"Uh-huh," she said, unimpressed with the accuracy of his diagnosis, latent concern showing in her tone, but then, without warning, she switched to a lighter subject. "This book is interesting."

"What book?"

"About birds, and how their wings work."

"Ah." He left his response at that, having no desire to enlighten her as to the purpose—or, perhaps more aptly phrased, the morbid curiosity—behind the purchase of that book.

"Mhm," she hummed in agreement, the pages whispering as she thumbed through the book, then she paused long enough to volunteer with a distant, dreamy quality, "Y'know something... Dark's flown me places before—and even..."

The switch in her tone before she trailed off suggested that she had recalled the other person who had flown her, so he remained still and waited with an apprehensive attentiveness that made a sliver of his mind wonder if he almost wished for her to ask, dangerously close to the heart of his secret, how much he knew about the second winged one.

After a short silence, though, she simply sighed, again whimsical, "It's wonderful, flying. You'd love it."

"I have flown before," he replied in monotone, his mouth quirking slightly at his bold-faced but unnoticeable confession.

"Airplanes don't count, genius," she retorted, amusingly ignorant in her vehemence. "There's something completely different about having nothing above or below or beside you except for someone to hold onto you, safe and sound, with nothing more than a pair of giant wings to hold you both up."

"Nothing like it, I am sure," he agreed, his smirk forming in earnest.

"Mm-mm." She paused for a moment, stilling enough that he could barely hear her breathe until she admitted, "I've hardly ever been awake for the few rides I've gotten, actually."

His smirk eased into a quiet smile, then he replied, "Perhaps someday, you will have the chance to properly enjoy the ride."

"I hope so," she said, her voice trailing away on a sigh, and he smiled a little more.

Perhaps someday, he would take her.


	148. Dusk

**A/N:** I've needed to spice up the happiness for a while, so this happened. You're welcome.

**Disclaimer:** Because, as a writer, I need to torment the lovelies.

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><p>A splintering pain had formed in her side over the course of her sprint, and her breathing had reduced to erratic gasps, but she refused to let herself slow down or to give her sore feet any reprieve from her awkward, tumbling run. The smack of her bare feet against the pavement sounded hollow, the noise augmented by the constant pounding of her pulse and heaving of her lungs in her ears.<p>

"Please," thundered in her mind, hammering like the heavy pounding of her blood, the only thought distinguishable aside from the desperate desire to stop her mad dash from her home to his. "Please, let him be there. I don't know where else to find him."

When she reached his apartment, she slowed as best she could, but still stumbled past the building. With shaking legs, she retraced her last few steps, then stood to stare at the half-open door to his entryway. Her relief mingled with despair, because while he would never have left the front door open upon quitting the building, the fact that he returned and could not shut the door meant that she could reach him, but meant still more that something truly had gone wrong, so entirely that he could not fully hide himself away from the world.

Indistinct images of white and gold flashed through her mind as she inched toward the doorway, but she could see nothing inside beyond the vague, darkened shapes of familiar furniture and walls. She paused on the doorstep and squinted at the thickly clustered shadows, premature even in the gathering dusk, but when she heard a heavy thud from deeper within the apartment, she darted inside.

"Hiwatari-kun?" she whispered, her voice refusing to rise above a terrified hush. "Hiwatari-kun, where are you?"

No one answered and nothing stirred, leaving her no choice but to creep further inside, straining to see through the gloom.

At the sight of his crumpled form, she froze for the span of a breath, then flung herself forward.

As she dropped down to her knees beside him, her hands darted back and forth above his prone figure in her uncertainty of how she could move him without injuring him further, but she soon settled her hands on his twisted shoulders so she could ease him onto his back. He rolled over heavily, without resistance, and she released his shoulders to catch his head before it could drop against the floor.

Even though she had moved him to a more natural position in a somewhat jarring manner, he remained still and quiet, hardly a breath escaping from his parted lips. Pressing her hand against his cold cheek, her fingers met with something moist, and she sucked in a hiss of a breath before she slid her hand forward to gingerly feel his eyelashes.

Wet.

Throat constricting painfully, she lifted her hand from his face for a moment to spare a faint kiss to the tears already drying on her fingertips, droplets of pain that she had never truly believed she would ever witness, then she bent over him and murmured with all her strength of will, "It will be all right, Satoshi—I promise, I'll take care of you now. Just relax."


	149. Crapehanger

**A/N:** Aah, goodness, yesterday was Monday. It just didn't even register. My brain is so mixed up. Sorry, guys!

**Disclaimer:** I might not be the best with deadlines either, but I am certainly not Yukiru-sensei, and so these fellers aren't mine. I just play with them.

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><p>"It's going to rain..."<p>

Satoshi glanced up from his book bag at his companion's little groan, then smirked slightly at the sight of her slouched against the door frame of the beach house, swathed in a wrap that she had put over her bathing suit.

"It might," he agreed, then pulled out the towel he had brought along so he could sit on the shore without the risk of bringing back his own weight in sand.

"No, it will," she insisted, her lower lip pushing out as she began to pout over her disappointed hopes, her eyes trained on the overcast sky. "I've been looking forward to going swimming for ages."

"Swimming, yes," he pointed out wryly, "which means you are now appropriately attired for getting wet."

"Yes, but not to get _rained_ on," she replied, shooting him a petulant glare, unimpressed with his logic.

His aplomb as steady as ever, he left his things at the table and joined her at the doorway, locking his hands behind his back as he volunteered, "At least it is still warm enough for you to go into the ocean."

She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then broke into a little grin as she asked slyly, "Aren't _you_ supposed to be the pessimist?"

"Someone has to be the optimist when you decide not to be," he replied graciously, earning himself a laugh.

"So we balance each other out?" she queried, then straightened as an idea came to her. "We're like Yin and Yang?"

His left eyebrow arching, he studied her for a moment, then said with a smirk, "Something like that."


End file.
